


Frigid Woes

by The_Pen_and_the_Sword



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Claustrophobic conditions, Gen, General distress and not having a good time, Hallucinations, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Torture, Whump, a few chapters of build-up before the bad stuff starts happening, a lot of it, no one is safe, spoilers for parts of the EGTW, this is a non-discriminating whump fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Pen_and_the_Sword/pseuds/The_Pen_and_the_Sword
Summary: The Mighty Nein, in a bid to gain more information on the Cerberus Assembly and their goals, have made a tentative deal with Vess de Rogna, and have sailed north to the islands of Eiselcross as part of an expedition to Aeor, a fallen sky city from the Age of Arcanum. The dangers of Aeor are many and strange, and with potentially untrustworthy allies undertaking the journey with them, there are any number of things that can go wrong... and a wrong step in Aeor can lead to truly nightmarish consequences.
Comments: 31
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

Beau glared up at the swollen clouds, bouncing on the tips of her feet and furiously rubbing her arms. “ _ Fuck _ me, I thought the Greying Wildlands were cold,” she hissed. Her breath plumed outward and drifted up to join the gently swirling snowflakes. “I hate this.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not excited, Beauregard.” Caleb’s tone of voice was dry, but distracted. He leaned against the railing of the prow beside her, staring ahead across the choppy water. Frumpkin was curled around his neck like a scarf, snow dappling his mottled fur, but his tail twitched back and forth with agitation. 

Beau narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t quite tell if Caleb was going for a “haha trying to be funny” kind of dry, or a commiserating “I am also uneasy and don’t really want to be here” dry. She decided on funny dry, because she was freezing her ass off, and she  _ was  _ uneasy, and she felt like snarking at someone. “No, actually, I’m super stoked,” she replied. “We just came out of the major peace talks that we helped make happen, got blitzed as fuck at TravelerCon, tanned on the beaches, sun and surf and cocktails and all that. What better way to cleanse the palette than by sailing to the deepest asscrack of the frigid north right afterward, and in Vess de Rogna’s pocket on top of that? I’m…  _ so _ thrilled.”

Caleb’s head swiveled in her direction, his brows drawn low. “Are you having second thoughts? We all talked about this and agreed upon our course of action.” He darted a quick glance around, but they were relatively alone up near the prow. He still lowered his voice, though. “The Assembly is a rogue element. We cannot trust the peace fully while the extent of their motives remains unknown-”

“–And building some trust while finding out what they’re doing is a smart move. I know, man, I was there for the team brief, remember?” Beau growled as she leaned up against the rail beside him. She was the one peering out toward the horizon now. “Just venting. This may be the smart move, but I’ve still got a bad feeling about this.”

Ahead of them, across the dark waves and taking shape through the obscuring snowfall, the collected islands of Eiselcross were looming steadily toward them, like a great hunting cat creeping toward its prey. Beau had never been to Eiselcross, but she’d heard enough about it for her base, superstitious instincts to read something sinister into every crag and peak of the slowly approaching landmasses. 

Caleb sighed, staring out at their destination with her. “You’re not the only one.”

“How are you doing?” she asked. “We are, like,  _ officially _ working for the Cerberus Assembly this time. Does that feel…?”

“We’ve already worked with them to coordinate the peace talks between the Empire and the Dynasty.”

“It’s not the same,” she insisted. “We were working for a broader, positive goal. Even if our actual reason this time is getting a read on them and their projects, we’re still under their orders and on their turf.”

Caleb didn’t reply for a long time, as he twisted the copper wire he used for messages around and around his fingers. Eventually, he turned toward her. “I think–”

They were interrupted by footsteps approaching them from behind. Automatically and in sync, the two of them stood up straighter and spun around. Fjord froze in place for a moment, looking a little startled, then popped his lips. “Creepy much?” he said in a high pitch, sliding over to join them at the railing.

“Just making sure you weren’t some Cerberus stoogy coming over to snoop,” said Beau.

“Heard the captain call land ho.” Fjord leaned far out across the railing and craned his neck around Beau and Caleb to get a look. “Oh, and there it is.” A slight frown took over his face. “I’ve never sailed this far north. Doesn’t seem like I’ve missed much.”

Beau grunted. “Seems like it’s just bad vibes all around today.”

“I feel like we should get Caduceus’s opinion first,” Caleb put in. “He generally seems to be the most accurate when it comes to, ah, vibes.”

“Vibe readings can wait until after dinner at earliest. I’m looking forward to toasting my frozen arse by a warm fire for at least an hour once we get off this boat,” said Fjord. “Business can wait for a little bit.”

Beau crossed her arms and leaned her hip up against the railing. “And what do you think, Fjord? No second thoughts, no weird feelings here?” Beau cringed internally. Her fishing was really obvious. Why was she so unexplainably nervous about this?

Fjord glanced over at her. His head cocked to the side just a little, before he gave her a soft smirk. He leaned over to bump his shoulder against hers. “Hell no! We’re the Mighty Nein, we’re fucking awesome.”

Beau only twitched a little when soft paws and a small, furry body jumped over onto her shoulders. “I agree with you both,” Caleb said quietly. He met Beau’s gaze again, and it seemed he was ready to finish his earlier thought. “I’m anxious. I don’t know what this venture de Rogna has sent us on entails, and I do not trust the Cerberus Assembly. I never will. And most of all I worry for you all. I… I do not want these people I used to have ties with to bring anyone in the Nein to harm, or for that to happen because of my goals. But you were right, all those months ago on the way to Felderwin. We have achieved things I wouldn’t have imagined possible together. I’m willing to put a little faith in that. We are all together. We know to be wary, to watch each other’s backs. I think if we lean on that, we should be able to overcome any obstacle that is thrown at us.”

Beau couldn’t help the half-smile that crept onto her face, breaking through some of her nervous gloom at last. “Wow, Caleb, you’ve gotten so sappy. You used to be such a brooding loner; now you’re all in on the power of friendship and shit.”

“Pot and kettle, Beauregard.”

“Fair.” Beau couldn’t help but agree. She didn’t like all the unknowns (she’d never liked unknowns), but she’d seen enough of the Cerberus Assembly to want them knocked down a peg almost as much as Caleb did, and the Mighty Nein seemed like the best-equipped people around to do that. She would just need to make sure to keep her eyes open and her fists ready for anything that dared try and fuck with them.

She reached up to give Frumpkin a scritch under the chin, and went back to watching Eiselcross’s slow approach. With the cat on her shoulders and her friends close at her sides, at least she didn’t feel quite so cold anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s cold as shit out here,” Jester heard Veth grumbling as the Mighty Nein stepped off of the gangplank and onto the docks of Balenpost. 

“I really don’t think it’s that bad.” Jester stuck out her tongue to catch an errant snowflake. 

“You’re an ice person, Jessie, you just can’t understand our misery. The sooner we get inside, the better,” Veth replied. Her voice was muffled as she burrowed into the depths of her coat collar. 

“I agree,” Caleb said, stepping up beside Veth and laying a hand on her shoulder. “But before we find a place to stay, we should find our Assembly contact. They should be able to give us the details on this job de Rogna wants done. Come on.”

As far as piddly backwoods settlements went, Jester had thought Balenpost didn’t look too bad from the deck of the ship. A little boring, since it was basically just a bunch of log cabins and an exterior wall thrown up in a cluster of civilization next to the shore, but at least it looked nice in the snow. As the Mighty Nein headed into the outpost proper and Jester fell to the middle of the pack, turning in every direction to get a good gander at the place, she began to retract her earlier thought. The fluffy white covering of snow seemed to be _all_ it had going for it. Otherwise, Jester suspected Balenpost would have been pretty dismal. The skies were heavy with dark clouds, the streets were narrow and hard-packed with snow slush and frozen mud that squished and crackled underfoot, and the people they passed on the streets seemed more like hurried shadows than townsfolk. Everyone was bundled head to toe in thick winter clothes so that it was hard to make out faces. Most seemed to be in such a hurry to go about their business they hardly seemed aware of anyone else at all, and those that did take notice of the Mighty Nein as they passed didn’t seem very friendly. One group on a street corner was huddled around an unrolled map, muttering amongst themselves. When Jester tried to stretch her neck to get a look, they pressed closer and glared at her. Another group came hiking in from the main gate of the fort, all of them crusted over in snow. The moment they caught sight of the Mighty Nein, new in town and fully geared, the whole party received cold stares.

“I’m feeling so welcome right now,” Jester muttered under her breath to Veth and Yasha. “Anybody else getting the creeps?”

Veth hovered a little closer to her. “It’s not a very big place,” she noted. “Maybe they just don’t like outsiders much?” Yasha said nothing, but she did stand a little taller, narrowed eyes sweeping the streets around them. With her tattered, dark fur cloak billowing around her and the rusty slab of Skin Gorger openly strapped to her back, Jester noticed the glares getting a lot less overt. 

Ahead of them, Caleb turned his head back, talking just loud enough for the group to hear and no more. “This is a Cerberus Assembly outpost, only established in the last few years. Here on Foren, most of the money comes from excavating pre-Calamity artifacts. No one here is native to the area.”

“Probably just being discriminatory asshats,” Beau scoffed. “I don’t see many half-orcs, tieflings, or firbolgs around.”

Jester would prefer not to dwell on that discouraging possibility, nor did she want it to sink in and drag down everyone else when they’d only just gotten here. Besides, she didn’t think they would be in this place for long. “Vess de Rogna said she was sending us on an expedition,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Do you think it’s going to be like a treasure hunt?”

“Something like that is likely,” Caleb replied.

“So graverobbing?” Fjord asked. “Not to be high and mighty, it’s not like our hands are clean there.”

“I don’t think it counts as graverobbing if the graves weren’t intentional,” Caduceus interjected. His long hair tangled in the wind, and while his expression was placid as was normal, Jester could tell he was also keeping a lookout and getting a read on the place. 

Jester thought about it, and was about to add that she agreed with Caduceus that it was a little selfish to call it stealing if you just died and dropped it rather than preserving it specially, that if _she_ died randomly then her ghost wouldn’t get mad with someone finding her stuff, that was just a happy accident, when Beau held up her hand and halted the group. They piled into each other in front of a long, single-story log building that sat at the center of the fort. Above the door, a wooden plaque bearing a familiar eight-pronged sigil hung above the door. This must be where their Assembly contact worked. Jester’s mood sank a little.

Beau stepped up onto the porch. “Sorry Fjord, just a little business before pleasure. Let’s hope it’s at least warm inside,” she said, looking up at the place and scowling. Raising a fist, she pounded loudly on the double doors. She waited for fifteen seconds, and then knocked again. As they waited on the step in the rapidly increasing snowfall, Jester could feel more stares prickling at the back of her neck, but she didn’t turn around.

The door of the lodge opened with a long creak. The man standing on the threshold was pale, with a thin nose and dark hair that came down in a pair of impressive sideburns. He wore fancy dark robes with a fur-lined collar, and being Cerberus Assembly, Jester was willing to bet that she was looking at a wizard. His eyes were a muddy hazel and there was a sour look on his face that she could only compare unfavorably to Lord Sharpe. He barely even seemed to look at them. “What’s your business? I hope it’s important, I’m very busy,” he said. His deep voice was so flat it sounded like he’d never been excited in his life. 

Jester saw Fjord put on his diplomacy smile. He had many, but this one was a personal favorite of hers. It was charming, but with just enough teeth behind it to convey either a slight threat or a forewarning of incoming mischief. “Charmed to meet you as well,” he said. “Wardlow Akron, I presume? We’re here on Lady de Rogna’s behalf, I’m sure she’s informed you.”

Akron drew himself up, focusing and giving them all a more thorough look. They were all wrapped up in their cold weather gear, which was a good deal finer and more colorful than the stuff Jester was seeing on the streets here, and it was hard to miss the bushel of weapons they were all carrying. Finally, the man let out a dour “Ah, I see. Enter.” He disappeared back inside, but left the door open.

“Blunt, isn’t he?” Veth tutted. “You should loan him your manners book, Yasha.”

“I don’t think he would appreciate the gesture.”

The Mighty Nein began to follow Akron inside. Jester stole a glance toward Caleb, as had become habit whenever they dealt directly with the Assembly, but he showed no hesitation crossing the threshold, nor did any of the others. Jester followed suit. 

It was a simple building, dimly lit but warm, with the large front room doubling as an office and sitting area, though despite the humble framework it seemed to be decorated to look as fancy as possible. There were strange animal heads mounted on the walls, lush carpets on the floor, a number of cushioned chairs, and bookshelves full of many tomes and shiny trinkets. Another crest with the symbol of the Cerberus Assembly hung above the roaring stone fireplace. Jester pursed her lips, and wondered if it would be possible to defile it somehow before they left. 

“Have a seat if you want,” Akron said coolly to them all, sliding behind his desk without even looking at them. “Lady de Rogna mentioned that you were… an eclectic bunch.”

Yasha had opted not to sit in favor of looming over by the fireplace, positioned in just the right spot where the flickering light and shadow played off her in a sinister way. Jester still wondered if Yasha did it on purpose or if she was just cool like that. “It’s part of our charm,” Yasha said, crossing her arms. 

Jester wiggled in her chair and mustered her most charming grin. “Weee areee the Mighty Nein!” she said in a singsong voice, with jazz hands for emphasis. “And we’re heeeere to help youuuu!” 

The jingle fell unusually flat in the muted room. Wardlow Akron looked anything but impressed. “Quite,” he said simply, before speaking to the group at large. “Understand I’m rather busy at all times making sure this outpost stays running efficiently, so I would prefer we get right down to business.”

“Sure, I’m hungry anyway,” Beau said bluntly. 

Akron leaned forward at his desk and folded his hands together. “Same as everyone else in Balenpost,” he began, “you’re here to bolster an expedition to the crash site of Aeor. I’m willing to take Lady de Rogna at her word about your… capabilities. Gods know I could use more competent explorers around here, so hopefully you live up to your reputation. For however long you’re here working, pay is based on your success in recovering artifacts or information. I don’t have the resources to be paying failures and slack-offs.”

Beau’s lips drew into a thin line. “Sounds like a fun time out here on the frontier.”

He arched an eyebrow. “‘Fun’ is secondary to survival and success.” Akron shifted even further forward. “Do keep in mind, whatever… flashy feats you may have accomplished down south, don’t allow them to fool you into not taking Eiselcross and its dangers seriously. I cannot count the number of swaggering braggarts that have gone down into Aeor and never returned again, or worse, have returned significantly changed. It’s a waste of resources, and I urge you to think carefully before engaging in any foolishness. Now, if you all think you’re willing and up to the task, the expedition is set for tomorrow morning. Fortunately, your arrival was timely. We can sign the contract here and now if you’re amenable; I had it drawn up in advance.” The degree to which he could be contemptuous while sounding bored to the point of falling asleep was impressive. 

“Wow, you really do like efficiency.”

“If I mean to make this outpost successful and advance the research and knowledge of the Assembly, wasting precious time waffling over pleasantries and unimportant details is not something I can afford.”

Jester raised her hand. “Mr. Acorn?”

“Akron.” His muddy eyes switched over to her. “What?”

“Would you know anything about what’s out there? Like, monsters or curses or other stuff?”

Akron sniffed, leaning back in his chair. “I would have hoped, with a monk of the Cobalt Soul in your group,” he said with a still-bored disdain that managed to plant a seed of anger in Jester’s stomach, “that you would have researched this prior. However, since it seems you haven’t…”

He paused there, gaze drifting away from them to the darkening windows. When he spoke again, his voice sounded even more distant than it had before. “I can tell you that even I don’t know the extent of the dangers contained within the ruins of Aeor, but numerous expeditions have brought back reports on what they’ve encountered. You’ll be going deep; we’ve already picked over the uppermost regions of the crater. By all reports, the deeper you go, the stranger things become.”

A particularly strong gust of wind rattled the windows in their frames and set the building creaking loudly. Akron turned back to Jester, and for the first time, a small, cold smile made its way onto his once expressionless face, one that Jester didn’t like at all. “Leaving aside the hazardous terrain and frigid temperatures, the list is long and varied. Spirits haunt the collapsed halls; some harmless echoes of that great nation state before its fall, some utterly malevolent and terribly powerful. There are creatures, created by the magewrights of old, that defy classification, and were designed to cripple the divine servants of the gods themselves. Arcane weapons of war lie scattered in the abandoned workshops, immeasurably valuable, but hazardous to even approach. And on the lowest levels are even stranger phenomena. Do you know much of the history of Aeor?”

Jester shook her head.

“What about you, monk of the Cobalt Soul?” Akron turned to Beau.

Beau folded her arms, the hostility on her face not at all hidden. “The basics. It was an airborne city back in the Age of Arcanum. Got so powerful and up their own asses they thought they could have a punch-out with the gods and win. Pissed ‘em off so much that both the Prime Deities _and_ the Betrayer Gods decided they’d had enough of them, and knocked them out of the sky.” 

“Essentially, if simply put. The gods were threatened by the sheer might of Aeor, and wanted to ensure that it could not rise again from the strike they dealt. Go deep enough, stumble into the wrong place, and the marks of the gods’ wrath, both Prime and Betrayer, still linger. Normally I don’t have much regard for the foolhardy, but even I have to pity the one who encounters one of those.”

“May I ask,” Caduceus spoke up for the first time, “have you yourself been to this place? Or does this all come secondhand?”

“I’ve been to the ruins twice, some years ago before Lady de Rogna put me in charge of this outpost.” Akron’s expression transitioned into something strange, a mix of old fear and barely restrained wonder. It was the most alive he’d yet appeared, but not in a good way. In fact, Jester thought of Captain Avantika for the first time in quite awhile, and how she used to take on a similar look whenever she spoke of Uk’otoa. “I saw my share of horrors,” Akron went on, “even if we did not go very deep. But… were it not for the duties I’ve been assigned, not even the terrors within those ruins would be enough to deter me from exploring the wonders of that lost arcane bastion. It was both nightmarish and beautiful.” After a moment he shook off the mood and he returned to normal, face falling slack and voice going dull again. “But enough of that. Time is wasting. If you want more specifics, you won’t be the only party on this expedition. If they don’t have their own stories to blather on about, I’m sure they’ve heard plenty secondhand. As I said, every minute of my day is a precious resource to me. You made an agreement with Lady de Rogna, and you can take it or leave it here; it doesn’t particularly matter to me. Are we in business or not?”

The room hovered in silence but for the crackling of the fire, the patter of snowflakes against the windows, and the howling of the wind. Jester swung her legs under her and glanced around at the group, who were all doing the same. The whole thing was awfully rushed, and the Cerberus Assembly was about ninety percent untrustworthy dickbags, but it wasn’t like shadiness had ever stopped the Mighty Nein before. As for the risk of Aeor itself… Caleb and Beau seemed to believe that this was worth doing, and Jester trusted them enough to be willing to follow them wherever they led. Besides, on the brighter side of things, she couldn’t deny that searching for lost treasures within a fallen sky city had an adventure book quality to it. They’d survived the Laughing Hand’s tomb. They’d managed multiple trips into the Happy Fun Ball. How was this any different? She caught Beau’s eyes and nodded, giving her a smile.

“Get the contract,” said Beau.

When Akron left the room, they lingered in silence. A log shifted in the fireplace and it vented sparks with a loud snap, shadows cavorting wildly around the room and across the grim faces of her friends. Jester frowned. She tapped her chin for a moment, then leaned over to Veth. “Keep lookout,” she hissed, withdrawing her paints from her pack. 

With all the experience under her belt, Jester could whip up a masterpiece in no time at all. By the time Akron returned, her supplies were stashed safely away, and Jester was able to sign ‘Nancy McFancypants’ on the contract with a satisfied flourish, knowing that just beneath her hands on the underside of the desk was a large, beautifully detailed dick painting that Akron wasn’t likely to discover for quite a while. 

The moment the last signature was put to paper, Akron stood. “Very well. You’ll meet the rest of the expedition outside the northern gate at dawn. I suggest you use the rest of the day to prepare in whatever way you need. You may go.”

“He was a dick,” Jester said bluntly the moment the front doors shut behind them, leaving them back out in the snow and the darkening day.

“Oh ja.”

“Huge dick.”

“For sure.

“Definitely.”

“Not a pleasant individual, no.”

“An asshole of the highest degree,” said Fjord, before clearing his throat, “but we’ve signed the contract, and hopefully we won’t have to deal with him again until he pays us. In the meantime, I recommend we find an inn. It’s getting late.”

The group set off in silence once again. Just because they’d agreed to the job didn’t mean there wasn’t still a hum of nervous energy buzzing through the group and trying to drag them down, but Jester wasn’t giving up. 

“We’re going to need our rest before we face _the horror show_ ,” she said aloud, pitching her voice deeply and wiggling her fingers toward Veth.

Never one to miss a cue, Veth flipped up her hood and put on her creepiest, screechiest voice. “We couldn’t possibly be prepared for the nightmares that await!” 

Beau scoffed loudly. “Really, _what_ a windbag! You’d think we were a bunch of chubby-cheeked recruits tripping off the wagon at Bladegarden.”

With that, the group began a long string of mockery that thoroughly buried the unease that had been trying to take hold. Jester brushed off her hands. A job well done. 

They found an inn nestled near the border wall of Balenpost, a ramshackle three-story affair, but the fire pit was roaring and the stew they served was hot and savory. Gloomy as it was outside, it made the place almost cozy with the whole party gathered together around the fire. In fact, by the time Jester was settling into bed in the cramped room she shared with Beau and Yasha, she could almost believe the pit of nervousness in her own stomach had been banished completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that read the first chapter and left kudos and comments! Y'all are great :)


	3. Chapter 3

“Move it along, people, it’s almost dawn!” Fjord hollered, clapping his hands loudly as he walked down the hall. A tiny, halfling-sized boot came flying at his head from one of the doors, but he was just quick enough to duck it. Ahead of him, Yasha came squeezing out into the hallway, thoroughly swathed in winter furs and trying to maneuver the cramped space without banging Skin Gorger off of every wall. “Hello,” she said, blushing a little as her giant sword hooked on a doorknob with a loud ‘clank.’

“Are Jester and Beau coming? We’re going to be late. Oof!” Fjord grunted as Caleb wordlessly pushed past him and jogged for the stairs, still slipping into his coat, with Frumpkin bounding at his heels. 

“Beau’s just finishing her push-ups, and Jester’s preparing her spells. They won’t be long.”

“Coming through.” Veth wiggled under Fjord’s legs and followed after Caleb. 

Fjord let out a long, rattling sigh. “Alright, Caduceus is wrapping up his spells too, we should just go downstairs.” Even more than wanting to not be left behind or get their pay docked, Fjord was antsy to just get on the road. His sleep had been rather restless, and the previous day hadn’t endeared him to this podunk little outpost. 

The Mighty Nein weren’t the only ones gathering down in the common room, bolting down meagre breakfasts as a cold, feeble light was just beginning to creep through the foggy windows. Not surprising, since that Akron fellow seemed to run a ship as tight as his ass. He couldn’t help but notice that the corner Veth and Caleb had claimed for them was being given a fair berth.

“Here,” Caleb said as they approached, handing both Fjord and Yasha a bowl of steaming mash. He went back to flipping through his spellbook while leaning over toward Veth, whose return to halfling form hadn’t changed her table habits any. “What do you think? Double up on Feather Fall today, or prepare something else? If we do end up falling off of some great height, I am able to polymorph myself and catch whoever’s left.” 

“It would save some magic. Maybe Seeming? If some horrible beast comes along, you could make us all look like rocks or something.”

“Technically, it would have to be a shape of the same basic arrangement of limbs, but I think I could make us look like statues.”

Fjord snorted as he sat down. “That wouldn’t be suspicious at all. Seven statues just chilling in the middle of the tundra.”

Veth leaned around Caleb and gave him a pinched glare. “Hmm. No, Fjord’s right. Scratch that idea, Caleb. Unless they have horrible taste, any monster that spots Fjord’s statue would attack on sight.”

“I wasn’t even criticizing you!” Fjord burst out, rapping his spoon against the edge of his bowl.

“You woke me up with your caterwauling.”

“I think Fjord has a very nice voice.” Fjord was cut off from would have been a scathing retort–he hoped–by Jester wiggling in to join him on the bench. Caduceus and Beau were just behind her.

Caduceus took the end seat on Caleb and Veth’s side. “His voice does have a soothing quality to it,” he said.

“Not at whatever-the-fuck-o’-clock it is right now,” Veth shot back.  


“Five twelve.”

“Thank you, Caleb.”

“What the fuck is this?” Beau groused as she poked at her mash. Fjord was now sandwiched between her and Jester. Yasha had opted not to sit, standing above them all and seemingly not paying attention to the conversation. “Looks like baby spit-up.”

Fjord groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, even if a part of him couldn’t help enjoying the morning rush. There was something comforting about the hectic scramble and banter that had become custom before a new adventure. “It’s breakfast, and we just need to hurry up and eat it. We need to get going, so just hold your nose or something. And Caleb,” he added, arm dropping back to the table top, “shouldn’t you have had your spells picked already? I thought you were incapable of being late.”

“I spent years in academia, Fjord. I’m quite capable of reading and walking at the same time.” Indeed, he hadn’t looked up from his spellbook once, and didn’t seem to be having any trouble spell prepping, eating his meal, and participating in a conversation all at the same time. 

Beau nudged Fjord’s shoulder with her own. “Relax, man. I’m looking forward to getting out of this creepy little town too. We’ll get there.”

Fjord sighed. “Gives you the heebies too?”

“Uh, yeah. They’re still fuckin’ staring at us.”

“I’d noticed,” Fjord muttered, taking a swig from his water skin while subtly trying to catch a glance at the room behind him. He didn’t get much, but Yasha standing as a dark and silent bulwark between them and the rest of the room was as good of a sign as any that the bizarre hostility wasn’t just a fluke of the previous day. He shifted just a little to the side to join Yasha in forming a wall that blocked a direct line of sight to the rest of the party.

Beau started aggressively eating her porridge, her shoulders tense. “Whatever their damn problem is, I’m more than happy to leave ‘em to it.”

“Agreed.” 

As soon as all bowls were empty, Fjord proceeded to start shoving the rest of his party members out the door ahead of him, Yasha going last and exchanging a dark look with him before she ducked out. Fjord spared a single glare back into the room before he followed. He was more than ready to see the back of this place. 

It was better outdoors. Some of the dense cloud layer that had choked the sky the previous night had broken up, leaving gaps through which the blue-gray light of dawn could seep through from the far east. The air was biting, making each breath in a sharp shot of bracing wakefulness. Fjord drank deep of it, feeling his restless energy begin to settle now that he was out of that smoky room and away from its weird occupants. There was just something about the start of a new adventure: new sights to see, new lands to trek, new dangers to test their mettle against, and always with his party at his back. Some mornings he still woke up thinking that the life he was currently living had just been a thrilling, impossible dream. He breathed out a great cloud of steam that shimmered in the predawn light. “Come on, let’s get a hustle on!” he shouted, feeling a growing spring in his step as he pulled to the head of the group. 

Balenpost was stirring, but the streets were still clear enough that they made it to the outskirts in little time. Beyond the cut log wall of the outpost, Fjord saw a vast field of snow stretching ahead, dotted with a few dark copses of fir and pine. To the north, a plateau rose above the lowlands, appearing hazy purple at a distance, and a little to the east of that he swore he saw an orange glow rising from the land. Strange. The landscape was beautiful in a way, but at the same time utterly still and empty. Beyond the muted noise of Balenpost, Fjord couldn’t hear anything but the whispering of the wind. 

He felt a nudge on his shoulder. It was Beau again, slipping up beside him. She jerked her chin forward. “Think that might be the rest of our expedition.”

“Oh.” He’d gotten a bit caught up in the landscape. Once he pulled his attention closer in, he did indeed see a group of figures standing a little ways out beyond the walls. At a quick count, Fjord saw ten. Details were a little hard to make out in this light and at this distance, but they were all dressed for tundra travel, with a few sleds strapped with equipment between them, and even a few shaggy-furred dogs meandering amongst the group. 

“Think they’ll be chill?” Beau asked. “Or do you think we’ll get more stink eyes?”

“Odds are on the stink eyes, but maybe they’ll surprise us.”

As the Mighty Nein trudged up to join the rest of the expedition, the other party caught sight of them. Most of them paused in their work and straightened. As Fjord and Beau stepped up, one of the other party members broke away and approached. The figure threw back its hood to reveal a human man of craggy but clean-shaven features, frost-nipped cheeks, and dark eyes. In his right hand, he held a staff that might have been mistaken for a walking stick but for the rough, uncut chunk of pure black stone embedded at the top, and the glittering veins of that same stone winding down the shaft. While his expression wasn’t welcoming, it wasn’t outright unfriendly either. 

“So you’re the newcomers, eh?” The man said, his gaze traveling slowly over them all. “Colorful bunch, aren’t you?”

“A good morning to you as well,” Fjord replied, trying to keep his formerly rising spirits from sinking right back down again. After all, the greeting might be a little cold, but it was a sight better than what they’d been getting so far. “We are the Mighty Nein. We were tasked by Lady de Rogna of the Cerberus Assembly to accompany you on this trip.” As he said this, he got a quick scan of this other party. The leader was probably some form of mage. It was harder to tell with the rest of the crew; it looked like a mix of humans, half-elves, and a halfling, most of them equipped with longswords and daggers along with their travel gear.

“I’d heard.” The man threw a look over his shoulder at the rest of his company, then back to Fjord. “I’m Brynjar. My crew and I have been delving in Aeor for nearly four years now. I understand this is your first time on the island?”

“It is.”

“Mm. Then fair warning, it’s near a week’s journey, and while the overland travel is manageable if you’re smart, it gets very hazardous within the ruins. And no offense meant, but I need it understood that, sent by the archmage or no, I’m head of this expedition. I’d thank you to accept that fact before we set out, so we don’t get held up by misunderstandings or any hotheadedness. You’re here to be muscle, not for any clever ideas that might kill us all, understood?”

“Understood,” Fjord said slowly. He had no particular problem with not being in charge; these people knew the lay of the land better, and the Mighty Nein’s real reason for being here was subtly gathering information anyway. Even so, he wasn’t keen on being pushed around for no reason. “Our team has plenty of experience being muscle. So long as things are kept civil on both our ends, we should have no problems.”

Brynjar just nodded stiffly, before he turned his back and began walking back to his group. “We move out in ten,” he threw over his shoulder. “Be ready.”

Fjord didn’t plan on rocking the boat (yet), but he couldn’t help a petty sense of smugness. The Mighty Nein were ready and rearing; they traveled light, with no need for tents when Caleb could make the dome, and two clerics available who could magic up emergency rations if truly needed. So as Brynjar’s party finished strapping down supplies and harnessing dogs to sleds, the Mighty Nein stood waiting on _them_ as the sun began to rise. Caleb and Veth fell to talking amongst themselves, and Jester crouched down and began drawing doodles in the snow with the wand of smiles.

While they waited, Fjord went over to Caduceus, keeping his voice low. “What kind of read are you getting off these people? It’s been nothing but sour looks since we got off the boat. This group doesn’t seem hostile, but we’re stuck with them. Should we be worried about this?”

“Hmm.” Caduceus leaned on his staff, peering out at the horizon and seeming perfectly casual. “I don’t know if it’s of particular concern yet, but I think we should be on our guard and be ready to fend for ourselves. This Brynjar doesn’t seem to think much of us. At the very least, if something dangerous happens, I wouldn’t bet on them staying to help us rather than saving their own skins. Beyond that, I’m not sure. Best be wary,” he rumbled in his deep voice. 

“Great.” Almost as a reflex, Fjord summoned the Star Razor to his hand. It was just as keen and beautiful as ever, and a tangible reassurance.

“Everyone!” Brynjar shouted, his rasping voice carrying far in the empty air. “Move out!”

The Mighty Nein shouldered their packs, fixed their coats and cloaks, and filed into marching order. As they did, Fjord took a moment of pause and hissed just for the group’s ears, holding his hand out to halt them for just a moment. “Hey. Eyes open, you hear?”

The Mighty Nein might be a ragtag bunch of weirdos, but one could never say they couldn’t rally when it mattered. They all recognized the no-joking tone in his voice, and even Veth and Jester nodded with absolute seriousness. They were together in this. 

Nodding back, Fjord took point, following Brynjar and his crew as they set off into the frozen wilds of Eiselcross.


	4. Chapter 4

Yasha sucked in a deep breath through her nose, shifting her fingers ever so slightly to get a better grip on the rock. Small cuts and scrapes stung her hands where callouses hadn’t formed, but she was well-used to shrugging off small annoyances. The rope tied around her waist tugged a little, but she stayed steady, searching for the next, safest handhold. She was almost at the top.

She stretched out her long body, right hand reaching and scrabbling at the lip of the incline until it found purchase, and then with a last powerful heave, Yasha dragged herself up to the top. The wind snatched at her hair and clothes, as if it was trying to drag her back over the edge and send her tumbling down hundreds of feet to the bottom of the impossibly steep slope. She took a moment to kneel and catch her breath, before she stood and looked around for a good place to secure the rope. There was a small boulder that would serve as a good anchor point, and once she had knotted the line securely around it, Yasha was free to take in the view. 

She stood at the top of a massive slope of stone and scree, rising from the valley floor at such a steep incline it was almost vertical. Behind her the land still rose rocky and snow-dusted, but not nearly as sheer, while ice fields and taiga woods spread out far below her, with not a sign of civilization in sight. The sky above was blank and gray. The icy wind continued to bite at her cheeks and sting her eyes. Closing them, taking in just the smell and silence of the empty lands, Yasha could almost imagine winter back on the Iothia moorlands, when she would spend days tracking game across the barren expanse to bring home to the tribe. A pang in her heart had her opening her eyes again; those thoughts wandered a little too close to Zuala. Better to stay in the present. 

They were on their fifth day out from Balenpost, and they were dead in the center of the Eiselcross wilderness. It had been a taxing journey so far, but nothing they couldn’t handle, alternating between long trekking over snowy tundra, and riding supernaturally preserved ice flows down the great River Inferno, a vast lava channel that split the entirety of Foren down the middle. There had been a few tussles with wild beasts, some treacherous terrain, and an uncomfortably close encounter with a creature the others had identified as a remorhaz. Yasha had never seen one before, but the rest of the Nein seemed very keen on avoiding it, as had Brynjar’s group. The expedition had fortunately been able to find cover and watch as the hunting creature passed them by and disappeared in pursuit of a dire wolf. Aside from that, it had been a relatively eventless journey. The worst part of it, in Yasha’s opinion, came from the expedition party itself, and not the outside obstacles. 

As Yasha stood sentinel at the top, waiting on her friends as they began to crest the top to join her, she heard a scrabbling of rock and dust. To her right, a little ways down the treacherous slope, one of Brynjar’s group, a half-elf man with short brown hair, was struggling to make the same climb, towing the lead rope just like she had. Introductions had been sparse on both sides, but if Yasha remembered right, his name was Favron. 

She didn’t even know why she bothered at this point, but she stepped over and knelt down. “Here,” she said, offering her hand.

Favron’s head jerked up to look at her. The skin around his eyes tightened, and his lips drew into a thin line. “I can manage,” he said brusquely, brushing past her hand and propelling himself up the last few feet.

Yasha sighed. “I was just trying to be helpful.” 

“With all due respect, we’ve traversed this wilderness dozens of times, and I’ve made this climb just as many. I can manage,” he repeated. 

Yasha saw no point in arguing about it. She only shrugged one shoulder before spinning on her heel and striding back to her own party. 

Most of the Mighty Nein had reached flat ground by now, taking a moment to sit down and catch their breath, stretch out sore limbs, and swig from waterskins. Jester was the last one up the rope, and she readily accepted Yasha’s hand up. “That was… a really long climb,” she moaned, shaking out her hands. “I hope we can take a short rest really quick.”

“That’s up to Brynjar, I’m sure,” Fjord said, although he certainly didn’t sound happy about it. “By the map, Aeor’s getting very close. They might want to keep pushing.”

Yasha glanced over her shoulder at the other half of the expedition, who were also congregating at the top of the long climb. A strange bunch. Nothing outright antagonistic, but over the five days of travel they’d seemed to make a point of holding the Mighty Nein at arms’ length. The groups walked separately, camped separately, and all attempts at striking up a conversation on the Mighty Nein’s side (mostly from Jester) quickly fell flat. Perhaps they just preferred keeping strictly to business and to themselves, but it certainly didn’t put Yasha at ease with them. 

Caduceus, who had been resting cross-legged on the ground, rose suddenly to his feet, long ears on alert. “I heard something.”

With the speed of long practice, the Mighty Nein were up and readying their weapons in seconds. “Where?” Veth hissed, crossbow out and loaded.

“Up the hill somewhere.”

With a deadly hum of displaced air and the faint screech of metal against stone, Yasha withdrew Skin Gorger, the tip resting gently on the pebbly ground. She squinted up the slope, becoming all too aware that the area they were all gathered was little more than a narrow strip of flat ground between the ascending landscape before them and the steep drop behind. In her peripherals, she could see Brynjar’s group also readying themselves. The expedition hadn’t tussled with anything more extreme than a dire bear before this point. She could only hope their reluctant companions were useful if this was something a little more dangerous. 

A few rocks scattered down from a point between two of the hills above, but Yasha could see nothing. They all waited with bated breath.

Half of the party gasped just a moment before Yasha’s ears caught the heavy flapping of leather wings, and she whirled around just in time to see the silver, cloud-obscured daylight snuffed out above her. A long screech rang in her ears.

“Wyverns!” She didn’t know which one of Brynjar’s crew shouted it, and it didn’t matter. Skin Gorger was already screaming through the air as she lunged forward, throwing herself between that great descending shadow and Caduceus. The blade struck true, and a spurt of hot blood splashed Yasha at the same time long claws bit into her shoulders and collarbones. 

Where just a moment ago the day had been silent and empty, the air was now suddenly infested with shrieks, shadows, and the beating of air beneath wings. 

Yasha ripped Skin Gorger free, face contorted in a snarl and the red haze of a battle rage already fuzzing at the corners of her vision. The wyvern she’d gutted fumbled backward in the air, dripping blood but not dead. In fact, it only seemed enraged. The rest of the Mighty Nein had backed themselves as far away from the downward slope as possible, clustering together like a military phalanx. Caduceus slammed his staff on the ground as Jester raised her hand, and above the group’s head a swirling mass of iridescent insects and gerbil-sized, multi-colored unicorns began to spin like a tropical storm. Yasha planted herself in front of the group nearest the drop. Creatures like this liked to pick up their prey and fly off with them, and she didn’t plan on letting anything get the chance to try. 

Large shadows flashed past overhead, maybe five of them, before one came diving down. It crashed through the umbrella of spiritual guardians with a garbled scream.

With a roar, Yasha leapt up and swung high to catch it. Skin Gorger carved out a wicked gash, but it wasn’t enough to stop it. There was a cry from the center of the group, and Yasha’s heart jumped in her throat as she saw it begin to lift back up, a wriggling blue tiefling clutched in its claws.

“Oh no you don’t!” Beau breached out of the crowding of bodies, her face contorted in fury as she swung with her staff. Unfortunately, it only managed to glance off of a wing. Other attacks lashed out, some of them catching and some not. Still the wyvern ascended, moving slower than it might have as it fought through the cloud of insects and unicorns, but rising all the same. Just as it broke the top of the barrier, though, it suddenly came to a halt midair. The wyvern screeched and writhed, seeming like it was trying to climb, but couldn’t.

“I’ve got it!” Caleb yelled.

It wasn’t too far up yet. Yasha couldn’t jump that high, but she had an idea. “Beau!” she yelled. She jabbed Skin Gorger into the earth until it stuck and then knelt down, cupping her hands together to form a cradle. 

Bless Beau, she needed no more than that to get the idea. Sprinting forward, her right foot landed in the cradle, and with all her strength, Yasha heaved and threw her upward. The monk sailed into the air, so graceful she seemed almost weightless, before she latched onto the wyvern’s neck and began pummeling it with her free hand. “Drop it! Drop it! Drop it!”

In its claws, Jester wiggled about. “Fuck off!” she yelled, hands clamping down on the wyvern’s clawed feet. Black veins spidered up the creature’s legs, and the howl it let out echoed across the mountain slopes. Under that onslaught, its grip went slack and Jester tumbled back toward the ground.

Fjord ran beneath her, arms outstretched. “I’ve got he–OOOF!” Both he and Jester dropped out of sight behind Caleb and Caduceus with a large puff of dust. 

Between the barrage of Beau’s fists, the blasts of radiant energy from the spiritual guardians, and one crossbow bolt after another from Veth, Yasha didn’t imagine this wyvern was going to last long. She pulled Skin Gorger out of the earth and spun around, looking around for the next threat. 

Another shape dashed across her sightline, swinging wide out over the steep incline before bolting straight toward them. Once again, Yasha stepped in front of her friends, ready to take the brunt. It was moving fast, and it was a big creature. This was going to be a bad hit. She braced for it, sword pointed outward and teeth gritted.

It rammed into her at full speed, smashing her backward. The others flung themselves out of the way with cries of shock; they hadn’t seen it coming. It made the burst of pain as she was plowed into the rocks behind her–her clothes and skin splitting, and what she thought was a rib or two snapping–all worth it. 

The wyvern was right on top of her and had her pinned, its flailing wings beating into her and its claws tearing furrows into her thighs and torso. Another sharp, lingering sting lashed her in the right calf, and she thought she felt the beginning surge of venom. Yasha shrugged it all off. Skin Gorger was buried low in its gut, and she was in the perfect position to use it. With a vicious wrench, she twisted the rusted blade and drove it deeper. The scream right in her ear was almost deafening. 

By no will of its own, the skewered wyvern was abruptly ripped off the end of her blade. It hovered struggling in the air for a moment before being slammed with supernatural force into the rocks, once, twice, and then a third time before she heard its neck snap. 

“God fucking damn, Caleb, prepare that spell more often,” Beau yelled. 

Yasha struggled back upright, one hand going to her ribs. She could feel warm blood trickling down her back and through her hair. A large, soft hand landed on her shoulder, and she sighed as a wash of healing magic rushed through her. “You good?” Caduceus asked. “That was quite a hit you took for us.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good!” Fjord called. “We need to get on Brynjar’s group! They’re getting overwhelmed!” He sent two eldritch blasts shooting from his fingertips.

Yasha’s head snapped over to follow them. Indeed, the other half of the expedition was not doing well. Without the hampering effect of spirit guardians, nor it looked like the natural cohesion the Mighty Nein shared, the other group was putting up a damn hard fight, but they’d been split apart by the remaining three wyverns, and it looked like the halfling was being lifted into the air despite his struggles.

“Veth, Jester!” Fjord bellowed. “Focus fire with me on the one taking off. Yasha, Beau, take one each and keep them from moving. Caleb and Deuces will hang back and do their thing.”

“Right.” Beau rushed past Yasha, throwing her a wink as she charged in. Yasha was hot in pursuit after only a brief moment of flustered blinking. 

Her wounds still ached and stung, but it wasn’t enough to stop her as she and Beau leapt back into the fray side by side. They ducked beneath the first wyvern as it was battered with a barrage of bolts and magical energies colored green and pink. As Beau kept moving in pursuit of the furthest wyvern, Yasha skidded to a halt below the second one, blade raised.

The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up as the air charged, and a bolt of lightning went tearing up to collide dead center in the wyvern’s chest, before splitting into two more bolts that went arcing after the other two beasts. She only took half a second to note that the source seemed to be Brynjar, his staff raised and his face stormy. Then the wyvern was losing air, falling back into her range. It might have been able to right itself before it hit the ground, but a downward slice of Skin Gorger carried it the rest of the way down. It writhed on its back, trying to flip itself onto its feet, but Yasha didn’t give it the chance. Her hiltless slab of a blade rose and fell, then rose and fell again, splattering the rocks and bystanders with dark blood.

As quickly as the skirmish began, it wound down to its end, the last bellows and gurgling screams of the wyverns falling silent one by one, remaining only as fading echoes that fled into the rocky heights and silver sky.

Yasha pulled Skin Gorger free from where it had become wedged in flesh and bone, swiping away a splash of gore from her face with her forearm. “Caduceus, do you hear any more?” she called out.

“No, not at the moment.” The ethereal insects faded out of existence. 

Yasha let out a deep breath and took in the battlefield. Fjord and Jester were lifting the wyvern corpse off of the clawed-up halfling. Brynjar’s scattered group was slowly reassembling, most of them bearing some ugly injuries but with no losses taken. Beau was walking back toward Yasha, wiping her hands off. 

“Nothing like a brisk, cliffside scrap to liven up the day,” she said with false cheeriness. “Thanks for the boost, Yasha.”

“Anytime.” 

“So.” They had to put any further talk on hold as Brynjar addressed them. His usual flat stare had changed somehow; still hard to read, but different. “Looks like you really do have lots of experience being muscle after all.”

Beau had that look on her face, like she was only just keeping a respectful cap on her anti-authority knee-jerk responses. “Yup. Like we said. We’ve fought more and worse than wyverns before.”

For a moment, Yasha thought an actual thank-you might have been coming, but then Brynjar just grunted. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, giving them a last once-over before he lifted his voice. “It looks like everyone can still walk, so we keep moving. We still have a few hours of daylight left, and I want to reach the highlands before dark.” Then he strode back to join his reassembling group.

Beau and Yasha watched him go. “Wow,” Beau said. “I think that’s the nicest he’s been to us this whole trip.” She turned her attention back to Yasha. “You good? You look pretty banged up.”

Yasha rolled her shoulder. “I won’t hold us up.”

Beau gently put her hand on Yasha’s shoulder. “I don’t doubt that, but maybe a little pop of healing before we keep climbing, yeah?” With a nudge, she pulled Yasha along back toward the Mighty Nein. 

On a whispering impulse that crept through her mind as they went, Yasha glanced back over her shoulder for just a moment. Brynjar and his crew were all huddled together, and Brynjar seemed to be gesturing urgently. He too turned back to look, and their eyes locked for an instant. Again, she got the notion that there was something in his expression that was just barely veiled, and whatever it was it played on her danger sense like a sinister note. She didn’t have the time to figure it out, though; he broke her gaze almost as soon as he met it, and with a snapped order, the huddle around him dispersed and went back to preparing for the next leg of the journey. 

Yasha frowned, and gripped the handles of Skin Gorger just a little tighter. 

* * *

“So that’s Aeor, is it?” Fjord said, standing at the top of the small rise and looking out. Yasha stepped up to his side. It was a little hard to see with the light rapidly vanishing, but she could just barely make out the dark smudge in the distance.

“It looks like a hole in the ground to me,” she said. 

“I imagine it would make a pretty big hole, a giant city falling out of the sky at ‘oh fuck’ speeds and slamming into the ground.” He put his hands on his hips and chewed on his lip. “Guess we’ll see how deep it goes tomorrow.”

“Dome’s ready!” Caleb called out behind them. 

The expedition had set up shop in a small, rocky dell fenced in by a patch of scraggly pines. The rest of the Mighty Nein were stepping into the dome, a dull gray hump that at a distance might have been mistaken for a large, smooth boulder. As was usual, Brynjar’s company was a dozen or so yards off, exposed beneath the sky and its members bunched close around a small fire. As Fjord and Yasha slid back down the incline, Yasha eyed the other group through narrow eyes. They were too far off to hear, but whatever they were talking about seemed to have them engrossed. 

As opposed to the close to frigid temperatures outside, beneath the dome it was as warm as any comfortable inn. The snow had been scooped out of the circle by Caleb’s giant cat’s paw before he’d put the dome down, and now his magical lights drifted above their heads like floating candle flames as they laid out bed rolls and prepared for sleep. 

“You’re actually gonna eat that?!” Beau was exclaiming, flopped on her stomach on her bedroll. “It’s gotta be like three weeks old at this point.”

“I’ve eaten rat, Beau.” That said, Veth chomped down on the muffin that had the telltale flattened look that came from being fished from the bottom of Jester’s bag.

Caduceus joined the conversation, pointing out that since there was no air in the bag’s extradimensional space, mold and other organisms couldn’t grow, leaving the muffin fairly fresh. Yasha kept one ear tuned to the talk, smiling softly as she set up her own spot. Still, she couldn’t quite get herself to relax into the usual nighttime routine. She sat with the feeling for a minute, before sliding toward Caleb, trying not to draw attention to herself.

Caleb sat with folded legs on his bedroll, stroking Frumpkin where he sat in his lap and unconsciously mirroring the cat with a sleepy slow blink as he turned to her. “Yasha.”

“Yeah, hello. Are you busy?”

“Uh, no, not particularly.” Some of the sleepiness faded away. “What is it?”

“I was wondering… could you send Frumpkin over to the other side of the camp, quietly. You know, just listen in for a little bit?”

“Uhhh, ja, I can do that. Should I expect to hear something?”

Yasha rubbed at the back of her neck. She hoped she wasn’t overreacting. She knew she wasn’t the best at reading people, but better safe than sorry, right? “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Just a feeling.”

“...Okay. Do you mind?” His hand lifted and hovered just above her shoulder.

“No, not at all.”

His soot-stained fingers rested lightly on the broad plane of her shoulder, hidden behind her back, and Yasha watched as his eyes clouded over in a misty-blue glow. Frumpkin uncurled on his lap, stretched, and then bounded out of the dome into the snowy night, heading for the faint firelight a little ways off. Yasha snuck a look around, but it didn’t seem like anyone had taken notice yet. She sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to her friends switch from a debate about the rate of decomposition within extradimensional spaces, to what foods they were craving most once they were out of the wilderness again. 

Caleb shifted next to her, and the glow went out of his eyes. His brow furrowed in frustration. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get close. The dogs smelled Frumpkin coming.”

“Oh.” She did her best to mask her own frustration; she didn’t want Caleb to think she was ungrateful for the effort. “All right. You did what you could.”

“Is there something you’re worried about? Did you hear something?”

“Just… I don’t know.” She waved her hand and did her best to keep her voice low. “There was this look Brynjar gave me after the wyverns, and ever since they keep huddling up like they’re talking about something important. I’m not sure what it is.”

“Hm.” By this point, Frumpkin had returned, reclaiming his space on Caleb’s lap. The wizard stroked the cat thoughtfully. “Well, you aren’t wrong to be wary. These people have made it very clear that we are temporary allies at best. But, we know to be cautious. We’ve worked with shady people before, and we’ve handled them.”

“I know,” said Yasha. “But I don’t think I’ll ever get used to just walking alongside a potential threat like everything’s normal. It’s… not something I was raised to deal with.”

“Heh, it’s not easy on the nerves, no.” Together, the two of them found themselves looking over the rest of the group. None of them paid Yasha or Caleb any mind. The topic had become considerably more heated.

“Does this look dead to you?!” Jester was hissing, her tail lashing as she shoved a wide-eyed Sprinkle into Fjord’s face. “He is perfectly healthy!”

Yasha let out a small chuckle, and she could hear Caleb doing the same, the both of them trailing off into silence again. Caleb cocked his head to the side. “We’ll remind them to keep their guard up, though I doubt they’ve forgotten. And if it helps, I’ll make sure to prepare Teleportation Circle for tomorrow, just in case.”

“That would help a little. And  _ we’ll _ keep an extra sharp eye out.” 

“That we will.” Frumpkin left his lap once again, but this time the cat padded over to Yasha and bunted his head against her knee, purring loudly. 

Yasha smiled down at Caleb. They didn’t talk frequently, but there was something about speaking with Caleb that, while not always comforting, was at least cathartic. They were alike in many ways, in their fears, in their sins, and when Yasha doubted herself she at least didn’t feel ashamed to bring that to him, even if she knew the others were too kind to judge her. “We’d best sleep,” she said, beginning to crawl back to her own bedroll. “Goodnight, Caleb. Thank you.”

“Gute nacht, Yasha.”

Yasha laid herself out, letting the steadily quietening talk from her friends lull her as she stared up into the sky. Her blade rested at her side, and it provided additional comfort. She didn’t know what lay ahead in the ruins; even if she was being paranoid about Brynjar and the others, there were going to be dangers crawling all over that ghost city. Whatever came, though, she promised herself, her plan hadn’t changed from earlier. Whatever might come at them, if it wanted her friends, it would have to get through her first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to get this out a little earlier in the day but eh, whatever. Buildup's almost done folks. Next chapter, things start getting crazy >:)


	5. Chapter 5

Morning came fast and silent. A thick, icy fog had rolled over them all in the night, swallowing up the land around so thoroughly that the two halves of the expedition could barely see each other.

Caduceus stood at the lip of the dell where he’d seen Fjord and Yasha looking out last night. Even with his keen eyes, he struggled to make out anything beyond sixty feet or so. But he had other senses, and they made the fur at the back of his neck stand on end. There was something about this place. The closest he could come to matching the feel of it was the fane of Torog, where the Laughing Hand had once been sealed, but somehow more. The stain was larger, deeper. He could only remember some of the details of what Beau had originally told them about Aeor, but the lingering touch of powers beyond mortal comprehension was undoubtedly here. This place had been destroyed not just by a single god, but by two whole pantheons. He couldn’t help but wonder if some mark of the Wildmother’s wrath would be here. Part of Caduceus wished he could spare the time and magic for a quick commune with his goddess, but another part whispered that it was really better not to know. 

Turning his back on the blank wall of fog, he slid down the slope to join his friends. The dome had dropped a few minutes ago, and everyone was hurrying to get their stuff together. Walking would at least keep them a little warmer. 

“See anything?” Veth called from across their camping spot.

“Nothing.”

“Not even you? That’s a great fucking sign.”

“Caduceus!” Jester picked her way over to join him. “What spells do you have today?”

“Mostly healing,” he said. “I’ve got a few tricks on-hand depending on what we run into, but we’ve got a lot of people along. I have to be able to spread out the healing as much as possible.”

Jester frowned, hands twisting together. “Do you think… should I prepare more healing spells too? I have the basic ones, and revivify of course, but, you know, if you don’t want to be the only one…”

Caduceus chuckled a little. Jester could be a skilled liar when she put her mind to it, but she wasn’t trying very hard to mask her reluctance. He took one of her small hands between both of his large ones and patted it. “Pick whatever you think you’ll need. Healing’s great, but I’ve found that sometimes a situation needs a little Jester flair to turn it around for us.” 

“If you’re sure,” she said, even as she was already smiling with relief.

“I’m fine.” He really didn’t mind it. They each had their own way of utilizing their divine gifts, and they often complemented each other very well. Besides, even if she was more aggressive in battle than Caduceus was, she knew when things were serious and how to handle it. He would trust her with his life without question; she’d already saved it once. 

Caduceus’s ear twitched, something pinging on the edge of his awareness, pulling his attention to the right. There was a flash of rapid shadow on the edge of their campsite, before it materialized into a halfling standing there looking at him. Not Veth; this was one of Brynjar’s men. 

The halfling cleared his throat. “Brynjar’s ready to march. You’re all ready, I hope?”

Caduceus tilted his head, his ears laying back just a little flatter to his skull. There was something tense about the halfling’s posture, his shoulders rigid and his chin lifted a little too high. Before he could say something, Fjord yelled over. “We’re ready. Tell him we’ll be over in just a moment.”

The halfling nodded, and he was darting back into the fog before Caduceus could say ‘wait.’

Jester must have noticed his frown. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Caduceus said slowly. “He was nervous about something. He almost looked like I caught him doing something he shouldn’t.”

Now Jester’s face morphed to match his expression. “He popped up right there?” she asked, pointing to the edge of the camp. At Caduceus’s nod, Jester walked over and started scanning around. Unfortunately, Caleb had removed all the snow the previous night, so there were no tracks. Jester rummaged around the area for a minute before trotting back to him, shrugging her shoulders. “I dunno, man. Everything looks the same.”

“Hmm.” Caduceus stared out into the fog where the halfling had disappeared. 

“Moving out!” Fjord called.

They met up with Brynjar’s group at the center of the dell. There was very little ceremony about it. Brynjar only held up his hand, nodding toward the Mighty Nein with narrowed eyes. “Beyond this point the ruins start. Don’t forget: my lead, my rules. Keep quiet, and keep close.” When he heard no disagreement, the man climbed to the top of the dell. “Jiraz, you’re up front with me.” 

The halfling, Caduceus noted, scrambled up after his leader, and within a few moments the pair had vanished into the fog. One by one, Brynjar’s team filed after him, fading away like ghosts. The Mighty Nein looked to one another. Blowing out a long breath that steamed in the air, Jester muttered the incantation for Pass Without Trace. Beau took the lead, and the Mighty Nein followed behind. 

The crater was the center point of the ruins, but the signs of the city’s destruction started far before they reached it. As the expedition tramped through the fog, they began to see large shapes looming up dark and blurred at the edges, as if they weren’t quite real: chunks of masonry poking out of the snow, halves of ancient buildings leaning precariously at angles, the sundered peak of a once-beautiful tower pointing up into the obscured sky like a giant headstone. This was a graveyard as large as any Caduceus had ever seen, and it was not a restful one. The silence was not peaceful, but rather like a held breath. Almost on instinct, he concentrated and reached out with his senses, scanning for any nearby undead. He saw nothing within sixty feet of them, but that didn’t banish his disquiet. 

“How long have we been walking?” Veth whispered from just ahead of Caduceus. It sounded much louder than it should have in the dead air. 

“About an hour,” Caleb whispered back. “I think we’re almost there.”

The land began to steadily tilt downward. In the time they’d been walking, the rising of the sun had begun to burn off some of the fog. More and more remnants of scattered architecture were revealed around them, clustering together now and leaning on each other. Some of it had fallen in their path and had to be carefully climbed over. 

Ahead of them, Brynjar’s group filed to a halt. The man’s hushed call barely reached them. “We’ve reached the crater.”

Caleb and Beau were the first to push forward, passing the other group and moving up to the front to get a look. It only took the rest of them a second to follow suit. Caduceus found himself stepping up to the edge of a drop-off, and he looked down and out.

The crater was huge, several miles across at a span, although the fog wasn’t so burnt off that he could make out the other side. The land sunk inward sharply, but over the centuries the shift of snowfall and glacial chunks seemed to have overtaken the surface, entombing the majority of the dead city in ice. Half-collapsed buildings, sundered walls, and splintered roadways poked up from the ice layer like broken teeth. At a wide scale it looked impenetrable, but close below them Caduceus could just make out pockmarks and divots in the ice that tunneled inward into blue-tinted gloom.

“It’s got layers to it,” Brynjar said, staring down into the crater with a hard expression. “With enough familiarity, you learn to distinguish them enough by the look and what abominations are crawling around in ‘em. They’re precarious; easy to step on a weak spot and fall right through to the next layer. Keep behind us, and watch your damn feet.” 

Grappling lines were thrown down the drop, and the two groups descended to the surface of the ice. One tunnel entrance was larger than the others, and much more purposefully shaped. Torches were lit as they began their slippery descent, the daylight filtering through the ice above transitioning from white to dusk-hued. For a few minutes it was just the frigid tunnel, only the sound of heavy breathing and the skating of precarious footsteps on the slick ground echoing off the walls. Then the tunnel flattened, and opened up before them.

“Wow…” Jester whispered at Caduceus’ side as they emerged.

Caduceus had to agree. The broken remains of Aeor’s beauty on the surface were nothing compared to what he was seeing down here. The ruins stretched away before and below him into a wintery haze, both awe-inspiring and unnerving. The bones of soaring towers, magnificent cathedrals, wide boulevards, and elegant neighborhoods had been smashed and piled and frozen in place amidst great pillars of ice, some buildings stuck at sharp angles and some even upside down, making Caduceus think of a giant, macabre geode. 

“Quit gawking and keep moving!” hissed one of Brynjar’s group, a half-elf woman with a long braid. 

The expedition marched on. Caduceus could make out a precarious sort of path the other group was following, a narrow track that wound between and under and occasionally through the rubble and skirted the outer edge of the crater. He could tell the rest of the Nein were doing their best to follow carefully, but it was hard not to have the eye snatched by the next wonder they passed. Caleb, Beau, and Jester couldn’t seem to keep their focus on any one thing for long, while Fjord, Yasha, and Veth seemed much more wary and on-edge. For Caduceus’s part, he did his best to keep his eyes and ears open. He’d always been perceptive, and it had come in handy many times in their travels. At this point, it had almost become a personal responsibility for him to be the first warning before danger, and he took it seriously no matter how distracting Aeor was.

“Bubble,” Jiraz the halfling called from ahead as the troop rounded a corner. 

Caduceus was only confused for a moment before he got a look himself. Nestled against the wall of a collapsed steeple tower was a shimmering dome of energy, perfectly transparent and unmoving. On the inside there was no snow or ice, and more significantly, Caduceus saw people, two adults and three children. They were dressed in clothes unlike any he’d seen in his travels, and they seemed perfectly whole and unblemished, just utterly unmoving. They were crouched down, the parents trying to shelter the children under their own bodies, and clutched at each other with looks of terror on their faces. 

“Don’t bother with them,” Brynjar tossed back. “They’re no threat. They’ve been stuck that way for centuries, and no one’s figured out how to break a bubble yet.”

They kept moving, but Caduceus couldn’t help passing a hand over the energy shield as he walked by. The people inside certainly didn’t look dead, but he wondered if that was more of a curse than a blessing. What must it be like, held back from the natural process of death and departure while the world aged outside. Were they just sleeping, as if in a long hibernation? Or were their minds awake, trapped in stasis, their loved ones so close but unable to provide company or comfort, their voices silenced even as living people passed them by?

The sense of unrest permeating this whole place grew stronger, and Caduceus found himself liking it less and less. 

Time went on and they kept walking, still skirting the edge of the crater. “Brynjar,” Fjord called ahead softly. “Do you know how far down we’re meant to go, and when we’ll start descending?”

Caduceus, looking ahead, caught Brynjar as he twitched, just a little. “Ah, depth is only as detailed as ‘further than we’ve gone before.’ But first there’s another location higher up we didn’t completely explore on our last expedition. I want that cleared out before we move on. We’re almost there.”

Fjord seemed to accept it, but Caduceus found himself aiming the beginnings of a glare at Brynjar’s back.  _ Something  _ was off. As he kept watching over the next few minutes, he saw Brynjar and Jiraz whispering to each other. He couldn’t quite catch it at this distance, but he could see the tension in them. It was growing, and spreading to the rest of their team like weeds in a garden, surreptitious glances darting back and forth between members.

Caduceus was certainly no wizard, but he didn’t need an alarm spell to start hearing warning bells.

As subtle as possible, he began to speed up until he was abreast of Fjord. “I think they’re up to something,” Caduceus whispered. He waved toward the others, urging them a little closer. Whatever was going on, Caduceus had a gut feeling that he didn’t have a lot of time. 

Fjord turned with a startled look, but his reply was cut off by a slightly quicker response. “I think you’re right,” Yasha whispered as she edged up beside them, leading the rest of the Mighty Nein as they packed in together. “I got this strange feeling yesterday, and they were all whispering together when we made camp.”

“And this morning, that halfling that came to our side of the camp, he looked on-edge. I think he was doing something, or trying to do something, that he didn’t want us to know about.”

Fjord frowned, his sword hand twitching in a way that meant he would very much like to summon the Star Razor in this moment. He shot a wary look ahead, but none of the other group seemed to be taking notice. “What do you think? That they’re going to turn on us?”

“That’s my guess,” Caduceus said.

“They can try,” Veth growled, hand drifting to her crossbow.

“But why, though?” Jester asked, her face screwed up in confusion. “We haven’t done anything to them!”

Caleb and Beau glanced between themselves, a hint of fear in Caleb’s eyes. “Could de Rogna have set us up?”

“I don’t know,” Beau said, her expression dark. “I can’t think of why she would. Ikithon maybe, or even the Martinet, but we barely know de Rogna. We’ve seen they all fucking hate each other, I don’t think they’d be doing favors for one another without some big payout for it.”

“Perhaps they know,” Caleb said faintly, his wide eyes staring ahead as his fingers drifted toward that amulet he always wore. “Perhaps they overheard our designs toward them.”

Veth drifted closer to Caleb. “I don’t know, this seems like a really round-about way to get rid of us if that’s what this is. They could have just sent Scourgers after us if they wanted us dead, right?”

Fjord shushed them all. “Whatever the reason, I think what’s most important is figuring out what the hell we’re going to do  _ right now _ . If they’re planning to jump our arses, we should probably come up with a plan quick.”

Caduceus stepped back in. Fjord was good at rallying the team, and Caduceus tried to follow that up with a little tempering. “I think perhaps an honest confrontation would be the best option here. We suspect something is going on, but we don’t know what. We don’t want any unfortunate misunderstandings in case we are interpreting incorrectly, but since I don’t think we are, finding a space that is advantageous to us should a conflict be triggered seems like a good idea. Hopefully, we can try talking things out instead and come to a resolution.”

“Do you think talking is going to do anything?” Yasha asked, sounding skeptical.

“Ehh, I would sooner try and potentially head off any trouble, more because of where we are than anything. I don’t think these people mean us any good, but this doesn’t seem like the type of place where it would be wise to start fighting each other. At the least we can appeal to that.”

The looks shooting around the group seemed anything but assured, but after a minute Beau huffed under her breath. “What else can we do except turn around and go back?”

“Then keep a look out for a good spot,” Fjord said. “And be ready for anything.”

They began to drift apart, eyes forward once more. Jester palmed her holy symbol. Veth loaded her crossbow. Caleb mouthed a few words under his breath in preparation. Beau and Yasha gripped at their weapons. Fjord’s sword hand twitched again. Caduceus saw it all, and held onto his blight staff just a little bit tighter. 

Caduceus swept their surroundings keenly, searching for any sign of either danger or a good spot to make a stand. Soon enough, an option presented itself up ahead.

He whispered over to Beau and Fjord, gesturing with his chin. “That might be our best bet.”

Beau’s lips pursed in thought. “Open space, with plenty of cover if we need it.”

Fjord, on the other hand, didn’t look happy about it at all, but he clenched his jaw in resolution all the same. Through his teeth, he muttered, “It’ll have to do.”

The graveyard up ahead, perched near a cliff edge overlooking the lower reaches of the ruins, might have been a beautiful park once upon a time. It seemed spacious, and as the expedition reached its outskirts Caduceus could see that the headstones had been finely made before the long years had worn them down. Now, however, the place was as quiet as the graves it contained, layered over in icicles and snow, with the ground buckled into crags and unnatural hummocks that twisted the iron border fencing, bent the lanterns that had once stood tall, and left headstones askew and tombs rent open. Caduceus was perfectly comfortable in graveyards, but he kept a lookout for any undead presences just in case.

Fjord made a gesture to the rest of the team– _ spread out a little _ –and with a faint flash, the Star Razor appeared in his hand. Beau stayed at his side, while Caleb and Yasha flanked right. Caduceus felt Jester draw up to his side as they moved left, and he could hear Veth’s tiny footsteps just a little behind them both, slowing down a little and beginning to dart between headstones. 

The backline of the other group had only just begun to take notice when Fjord called out. “Brynjar. I think we might need to talk.”

Caduceus saw Brynjar freeze at the front of the other group, before slowly turning to face them. His eyes flashed at the sight of them, and around him his people fell into a similar, ready formation to match the Nein, some of the dogs beginning to growl. “What is this?” Brynjar hissed. The change from his usual cold, blank demeanor was drastic and a little jarring. 

Caduceus could see Fjord trying to keep his posture loose and open. “We were just hoping to get a bit of clarity,” the half-orc said. “We have a feeling that not all cards are on the table here, and I think it would better for us all if we were honest with each other.”

Beau was much more blunt. “What do you want with us?” she snapped, arms crossed. “We know you’ve been whispering when we can’t hear, giving us funny looks. Hell, we’ve been getting funny looks since we showed up in Balenpost, and I’m sick of it. Before we follow you any farther, we want answers.”

“We would prefer this not to come to blows,” Caleb added from off to the side. “This does not seem like the time or place. If this is a misunderstanding then we beg your pardon, but I’m sure you can understand why recent behavior might make us nervous.”

There was a moment of silence, before Brynjar barked a laugh. “Might make  _ you _ nervous? Rather rich coming from the newest shiny lapdogs of the Assembly.”

“That is  _ not  _ true!” Jester cried.

“Seems that way to me,” he said with a sneer. “We’ve seen your kind before. Come strutting through Balenpost, flashing around your fancy weapons and connections, and it always ends up the same. Well, we’ve learned our lesson over the years.” He waved his hand, and all around him weapons were drawn, the faces of his team drawing back into snarls. “The strongest group and the quickest draw is the one that makes their fortune on Foren, and we’ve got no intention of being claim-jumped by a bunch of mainland bastards!”

There was a moment of pause, before Beau smacked a palm into her face, head tilting back with a huge groan. “Really?! That’s what this is?”

“You think we’re trying to jack your paycheck?” Veth asked just as incredulously.

“That’s so stupid!” said Jester, hands planting on her hips. “We make lots of money on our  _ own _ , we don’t even need to take yours!”

“My companions are telling the truth,” Fjord said, taking a step forward, sword lowered. “Whatever perception you may have of us, we don’t mean anyone here any harm, and we don’t intend to take any shares that we haven’t earned ourselves. There need not be a conflict between us.”

Despite the fact that weapons were still drawn, Caduceus felt his shoulders relaxing just a little bit. The situation still wasn’t good, but it wasn’t nearly as complex as it might have been. They were telling the truth, they had no intention of any underhanded dealings against these folk; surely it would be easier to talk things out. 

However, the line of sudden tension in Brynjar’s shoulders, and the darkening in his eyes, dashed Caduceus’ hopes. “Sorry,” Brynjar said with a cheerless grin. “I’ve heard that line before, and to be honest, my men and I have found we like keeping all shares to ourselves. This isn’t ideal…” he sighed, before his face twisted savagely. “But it will have to do.” 

The Mighty Nein sprang into action. Bolts of fire and arcane energy were already soaring through the air and slamming into Brynjar, sending him reeling back, but not before he managed to slam his staff into the ground. A rush of frigid air blasted outward, and a mass of white and blue swelled up from nothing and rushed forward. 

“We could have done this the easy way if you’d just stayed oblivious!” Brynjar bellowed.

Caduceus was halfway through the incantation of Bless, all while cursing the foolish man and his stubbornness in his head, but the spell fizzled and died on his lips as the rampaging wall of ice bore down on him. He lunged to the side, but wasn’t quite fast enough. A strangled cry was knocked from his throat as the ice slammed into him at an angle, sending him tumbling backward and crashing into the snow. As he lay stunned for a moment, body aching, a fluttering mote of optimism was at least grateful he hadn’t been crushed into that mausoleum behind him. 

“Caduceus!” 

His vision was still swirling a little, but he could make out first two crossbow bolts whizzing over his head, a blur of yellow passing him by, and then Jester’s blurry face appearing above him. 

“Come on!” Jester cried as she helped haul him upright. He’d barely got his bearings back before a dagger came whipping through the air toward him. His shield deflected it only just in time.

“Dick!” Jester roared, her hand shooting out and the familiar pink beam of her Guiding Bolt lanced out across the room. 

Caduceus staggered to his feet, and rapidly took note of several things. First, the great wall of ice curved and bent on his right side, splitting them off from the rest of the graveyard. Second, three of Brynjar’s men–the halfling Jiraz, a large human man, and that half-elf woman from earlier–were charging forward, weapons drawn, with their leader falling back to a greater distance. Third, and most importantly, he could only see Veth and Jester running up to meet the enemy. He couldn’t see any of the others. 

“This isn’t good,” Caduceus muttered. His Bless had been wasted, but he had plenty of reserves left. Glaring down their foes, he reached out a hand, crooking his fingers into claws, and let the dark pulse of Bane ripple out toward Brynjar and his men. An aura of faint darkness took hold around Brynjar, Jiraz, and the man, but the half-elf seemed unaffected. 

Beyond the ice wall, Caduceus heard a familiar cracking BOOM, and a flare of fiery light rose up past the wall. Good. Caleb could make short work of that. 

“Somebody take out the wizard!” Brynjar roared, and then angled his staff forward. The end sparked with crackling energy, and Caduceus’ ears flattened when he recalled what it meant.

“Move!” 

The arc of lightning shot through the air, heading straight for Jester. She dropped to the ground, avoiding the brunt of the hit, but Caduceus still heard her shout with pain. Then the lightning split and curved away, one arcing hard and chasing after Veth where she was dodging between headstones, and the other for–oh dear. 

Caduceus tried to sprint away and get behind cover, but he wasn’t nearly fast enough. It hit him full in the back, and for a moment the whole world went white. 

He came back to his senses on hands and knees in the snow, his back burning terribly even through his armor. His mouth tasted like blood and ozone.

“Deucey!” Veth’s light steps and high-pitched voice came pelting toward him. The whipping twang of her crossbow sounded off close to his head, and for a moment he cringed, wondering if he would be feeling the heat and force of an explosion in a moment. Instead, he heard a harsh yell of close to him. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!” Veth yelled.

“Gladly, bitch!” 

Caduceus blinked, his vision fully clearing up again and allowing him to see Jiraz charging after Veth, two daggers no doubt meant for Caduceus gripped in his hand. 

Caduceus had to drag himself to his feet alone this time. The opening of this fight was not going well for him. He poured a little healing into himself and backed behind a tombstone for a moment, trying to catch his breath and survey the battlefield. Another explosion went off across the field, but the part of the wall that blocked Caduceus, Jester, and Veth in was still as solid as ever. Was there another section he couldn’t see? Veth was keeping Jiraz plenty occupied, but that left Jester trying to defend against three opponents on her own. Tough as she was, she couldn’t last like that. 

Brynjar had to be taken out. Without their leader, their command structure would hopefully be crippled. Jester was better suited to this, but he could certainly help her. He did his best to crouch behind the tombstones as he moved closer. He needed Brynjar within thirty feet. Almost… there!

“Jester!” he yelled, standing up from his hiding place. “Hit Brynjar with everything you’ve got!” Caduceus pointed his finger, bending every ounce of negative, malevolent energy he held for the man toward him, and felt the curse take hold. The next hit was really going to hurt. 

Wordlessly, Jester deflected the impact of an axe off her shield and took just a second to whirl around, her holy symbol held out. A bead of dark green and swirling black color bloomed from her hand and rocketed toward the mage, shattering against him like an orb of glass. At first Brynjar only grunted, bracing himself for a moment, before he went completely rigid and crumpled to his knees, screaming loud enough to overpower the whole battlefield, before he was cut off by a vicious coughing fit. Caduceus could see black veins crawling across his exposed skin, and where he spat in the snow, it turned red. 

Caduceus gripped his staff tighter. That was even stronger than he’d hoped for. Brynjar seemed skilled, but mages weren’t known for hardiness. A good hit from both him and Veth might be enough to do it. Energy stinking of rot and mold began to gather at the tip of his staff as he prepared to cast Blight. 

A scream behind him cut him off, and he spun back. He couldn’t exactly see what was happening through the headstones, but he recognized the yellow coat. Veth was down, writhing in the snow, and it didn’t seem like she could get up. His ears twitched and he saw a small shadow materializing over Veth. 

“Wasn’t expecting that, were you? I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere. Maybe I’ll skin off that pretty tattoo of yours, keep it as a trophy.”

Gritting his teeth, Caduceus changed targets. The necrotic energy snaked hungrily through the air, and Jiraz’s smug crowing turned to yelps and howls. 

This time it was Caduceus chasing after Veth. He wasn’t very strong, but he was large enough that he should be able to get her up if she needed it. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance. 

A shape stepped out from behind a mausoleum right in front of him, and he had just enough time to register that it was the half-elf woman, her face curled in a triumphant sneer, before her hand whipped out and threw something into his eyes. 

Caduceus had experienced a lot of pain since joining the Mighty Nein, some of it minor, some of it extreme. This, he came to the horrible realization before his mind blanked out, was some of the worst he had ever felt.

He couldn’t help the unrestrained scream that tore from his throat, his hands flying to his eyes as he crashed down to his knees. It was like his beetles had turned on him and were  _ eating out his eyes _ , and they were burning, and burning, and  _ burning!  _ The palms of his gloved hands began to grow slick and warm. 

A hand seized hold of his long hair and yanked his head back. Even as he struggled and writhed in pain, he could make out her voice almost at a distance. “The gifts of Aeor are nasty things, aren’t they? Your little friend is finding that out too. Don’t worry, though. I’ll make it quick.” The cold aura of steel hovered at his throat.

“VETH! CADUCEUS!” Jester’s desperate scream was loud, but even like this Caduceus knew she was too far away. 

Only through long meditation and practice, as well as his depth of faith, was Caduceus able to focus enough through the agony to reach out to his goddess.  _ “If this is it, Wildmother, I thank you at least for letting me find my family again. At least I know they’re all right.” _

What happened next could later have been put down to divine intervention from any one of the Mighty Nein’s gods, or alternatively could have just been the natural consequence of their sudden, destructive battle in such an unstable location, and their ire had been too focused on each other that it hadn’t occurred to anyone. However, in the moment it didn’t matter so much  _ why  _ it happened, really just that it  _ did. _

As Caduceus felt the dagger beginning to bite into his throat and he prepared himself to embrace death once again, the ground beneath him pitched violently. The dagger cut a long but shallow nick as the half-elf woman yelped and staggered away, and Caduceus collapsed face down in the snow. He didn’t even manage to get back to his knees before everything rocked again, followed by a deep, echoing  _ CRACK.  _

“Fuck!” the half-elf woman yelled. “Jiraz, move, MOVE!” 

More cracks split the air, and then the unmistakable otherworldly noise ice made when put under too much pressure. Then the ground began to shift, and Caduceus started to slide downward.

Footsteps pounded toward him. Caduceus struggled to raise his shield before he felt gentle hands on him. “Caduceus, you have to get–oh god…” Jester trailed off. Gloved fingers just barely skimmed across his cheeks. 

The ground jolted beneath them, the sliding getting faster, and Caduceus felt tugging on his arm. “You have to get up, Caduceus!” Jester cried out, her voice shaking as hard as the ground. “I think we’re sliding off the cliff! We have to get to Veth!”

A splintered shriek of more ice cracking and crashing to the ground seemed to mark the destruction of the ice wall, but now everything was rumbling and roaring. Eyes still sightless and in excruciating pain that threatened to steal his consciousness away, Caduceus struggled not to lose his footing while Jester did her best to keep him upright. “Fjord! Beau!” Jester screamed, but her voice was getting lost in the tumult. “CALEB! YASHA! ANYONE?!” 

“Jester!” Veth’s voice just barely reached them, getting close. “Help me!” 

“I’ve got you!”

The ground gave one more tremendous heave upward, almost lifting Caduceus and Jester off the ground. And then with a last, cavernous moan, the ground opened up beneath them, and they were in empty air. 

As Caduceus tumbled down through a sightless void, he thought he heard distant shouts; his friends, somewhere in this deluge of stone and snow and blackness. Much closer was Jester’s scream, calling for Veth while clinging to Caduceus’ sleeve. The last thing he knew was a strange sense of buoyancy coming over him, like switching from falling to slowly sinking into deep water, before the pain in his eyes and back sent him spiraling away into a quieter, more gentle darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Build-up done... Welcome to the horror show!
> 
> Also, just cause, I was keeping rough track of damage and combat stuff going on because I’m a D&D nerd. That attack on Brynjar was a combo of Cad’s Path to the Grave feature, and Jester casting the 6th level spell Harm. Total damage? 94 points of necrotic damage, and Brynjar’s hp maximum was reduced by that much. Team Cleric can make a murderous combo when they want to.


	6. Chapter 6

Beau’s fist lashed out, connecting with a crack on Favron’s jaw.

The half-elf went stumbling, but Beau didn’t let up. She leapt into the air, spinning into a vicious kick that slammed into the back of his head. He didn’t look like he could take much more.

“Beau, look out!”

Fjord’s shout caught her attention just as she heard the whistle of a bolt zipping toward her. With the speed of a striking adder, her hand whipped up and caught the thing mid-air before it slammed into her skull. Two bolts of verdant green energy went shooting out toward the crossbowman, and then Fjord skidded up beside her. Instinctually, they went back-to-back. 

“We need to get to the others!” Beau yelled. The two of them were boxed in the middle of the v-shaped ice wall, and while they were handling themselves all right against three opponents, she needed to make sure the same was true for the others. 

On their right, a blast of orange light billowed across the ice wall. It cracked and splintered, chunks dropping away in some parts. When it faded, what remained was so thin she could see shadows darting around on the other side. 

“That shouldn’t take too long.” Whipping out his arm, Fjord sent two more eldritch blasts into the brittle barrier, shattering two sizable holes in it. They were almost through. 

Then the shaking started.

Beau was pretty sure on her feet, and as Fjord and Brynjar’s men struggled to stay upright, she rode the jolts and waves with ease. That meant she was less distracted when she heard the cry from behind her, across the still undamaged ice wall. “FJORD! BEAU!”

Beau spun around, her heart leaping to a hammering rate. “Jester!” she tried to call out, but even as her mouth opened a deep groan from the earth and a series of cannon-shot cracks drowned out her voice. Then the shifting turned to sliding.

“No, no, NO!” Beau clawed at the snow as it began to bear her downward, searching for some kind of purchase, but there was none near her. Next to her, Fjord was fighting just as fruitlessly. 

Ahead, the barely standing ice wall crumbled completely. The gulf below them was now fully visible as the first wave of snow, unearthed headstones, and struggling bodies began to pour over the edge. Two of them were horribly familiar.

“NO!” Beau could barely even hear herself, her horror as she saw Caleb and Yasha vanish over the ledge swallowed up in the roar of the collapse. She didn’t have much time to absorb it, though. The avalanche barrelled forward, and for a few moments Beau could barely even tell she’d gone over the edge. Then gravity took hold. 

Beau didn’t mind falling so much anymore. Her training and ability to channel her ki made heights not as big a danger for her as they used to be. Unfortunately, falling in the midst of an avalanche of ice, snow, and rock was a completely different matter. She thrashed and twisted in the air, doing what little she could to dodge meteors of falling detritus and great waves of snow, all while being pelted by tiny pebbles and ice shards that scored dozens of little cuts and bruises as she fell. 

“FJORD!” Beau yelled at the top of her lungs, trying to catch a glimpse of him as she plummeted, head swinging wildly back and forth. He’d been right next to her, where was he?! For a moment she saw a falling figure and her heart pounded even faster, but the scream they let out and the armor they wore were not Fjord’s. She watched a boulder collide with Favron mid-air. He went limp and stopped struggling. 

A great shadow loomed overhead, the rushing of something massive coming right down on her head filling her ears. Then something slammed into her: not a building-sized rock or chunk of ice, but humanoid. An arm locked around her midriff. 

“Hang on!” Fjord shouted, and then Beau felt the familiar sensation of being yanked unnaturally through a small tear in time and space to another point in the air, a thunderous boom echoing in their wake. She and Fjord reappeared, still free falling and tumbling end over end, but with the giant chunk of debris just missing them as it plunged downward. 

“When we’re going to hit,” Fjord yelled as loud as he could over the cacophony of the avalanche, his cloak flapping wildly around him, “I’ll cast it again, and try to cut the fall!”

Beau only nodded, struggling to pull her goggles down over her eyes. “Watch for more rocks!” she screamed back. “I’ll let you know when to go!”

They continued their plummet into the gulf, and for a few seconds it seemed like an endless, thorny throat opened wide to swallow them into the very core of Exandria. Then her eyes found what they were seeking.

“There!” She pointed her finger wildly. “A ledge!” 

Fjord’s arm wrapped around her a little tighter. The swell of magical energy built around them, holding, holding, _holding_ for the right moment. 

“NOW!” Beau bellowed.

With another loud crack of thunder, they teleported again, to the left and up a little, about twenty feet above the ledge. There was a moment of pause, an arrest in momentum as they were shunted from one place to another, and then they began to fall again. Beau braced herself to roll.

They slammed into the snowbank, flying apart as they began to tumble. For a moment Beau’s vision was turned into a mad kaleidoscope of white and blue and gray. There was an impact on her forehead that sent stars and pain exploding behind her eyes, but it didn’t stop her flailing arms and hands as they scrambled to make purchase. Snow flew in her face and under the lining of her clothes, infecting her with ice burn, and she felt one of her shoulders strain badly, but she managed to drag herself to a tangled, painful stop. Nearby, she could hear Fjord also flailing to a halt, a last puff of snow going up as he went still, and there they lay. The shriek and rumble of stone and snow plunging into the deepest depths of Aeor went on for another minute or so, before it petered out, and then finally ceased. 

Beau panted where she lay prone, eyes closed, trying to push past the throbbing pain in her head and waiting for her brain to catch up with the last few minutes of disaster. The fall–aside from the head bump, _fuck_ , she must have knocked it on a rock or something–had only hurt a little, between Fjord’s spell and her own abilities. The hits she’d taken up above stung a little more though, and for a while she could only remain still, letting the cold snow soothe her pains.

All of this, and it was over some damn money, and apparently a bunch of assholes that couldn’t see reason. 

“God... _fucking_ damnit,” Beau moaned under her breath. Gingerly, she rolled over onto her back, throwing an arm over her eyes and pounding her other fist into the snow. “Fuck Brynjar and his fucking cronies!”

Her arm fell away again, and her eyes blinked open, staring up once her vision cleared. She had to swallow a little when she realized just how far they’d fallen. Even for her that would have been an ugly landing. 

Worse than the thought of how deadly that could have been, Beau found as she lay there motionless, was realizing with dawning dread that but for Fjord and herself, there was not a living being in sight, and aside from their own heavy breathing and the distant echoes of the avalanche’s dregs settling at the very bottom of the crater below, Aeor had gone dead silent once more. 

Shakily, Beau levered herself upright. Breath rushed out in a pale cloud past her lips. 

“Jester?” Her call was much too soft and unsure to carry far even beyond this ledge, but she still found herself straining for a response. “Caleb? Yasha?”

Her words found only empty air.

Beau clambered to her feet. Behind her, she heard Fjord shifting, but she couldn’t turn around. Her gaze was dragged downward with almost magnetic compulsion as she stepped up to the edge, and she stared into the misty depths.

“Fjord,” she whispered. A cold, writhing panic began to build in her stomach that was at odds with her statue-still body. Caleb and Yasha had gone over the edge first. There had been so much snow, so many rocks and uprooted headstones. It would have been so easy to be crushed under tons and tons of it, entombed and unreachable forever. And then there was Jester, Veth, and Cad. She hadn’t seen them fall past her, but then where were they? If they hadn’t fallen, wouldn’t they be calling out, or sending a message of some kind? The fear crawled higher toward her throat. “Fjord, where are they?” 

Fjord groaned as he heaved himself to his feet. “I...I don’t know. I didn’t see them.”

Beau’s hands went from hanging at her side to clenching into fists so tight she could feel the blood leaving them. The pit in her stomach yawned even wider, and her quickening breaths inward almost felt like they were burning within her lungs. In the back of her head, a cruel little voice began to whisper. At this point, it was far too familiar. _Your happiness won’t last_ , it hissed. _Your new family will leave you, or be taken from you. It’s only a matter of time._

Beau shook her head viciously, regretting it a moment later as her banged-up skull redoubled its throbbing. Her hand flew to her forehead, as much to try to block out that little voice as to steady herself. She’d tried so hard over the last month to banish it, to shut it up, but it just kept coming back. 

A large hand landed on her shoulder.

“You alright?” Fjord asked.

Beau cleared her throat loudly, her hand dropping back to her side. “Yeah. Yep, yeah, I’m great.” She didn’t dare look directly at Fjord, afraid he would read her like an open book if she did. She couldn’t help thinking back with shame to the night they’d met the hag, and all that followed beneath the dome in the middle of the swamp. Her friends had been so determined to comfort her, to assuage her fears. She couldn’t bear for Fjord to know she was still thinking the kind of thoughts that had prompted her attempted deal with Isharnai. What if he thought she didn’t trust him? That she didn’t have faith in the Nein? “I… just got a little bump on the head. It’s no big deal.”

There was a moment of pause that put Beau on the edge of a nervous sweat, before she was suddenly poked in the cheek by a clawed finger.

“Man, what the fu–” She paused in her exclamation when she felt a rush of bright energy coursing through her, sealing up her cuts and scrapes and the growing lump on her head with the faint scent of an ocean breeze. “I keep forgetting you can do that,” she muttered, taking the opportunity to surreptitiously scrub at her face before turning to face him properly at last. “And you got more hurt than I did.”

“But you’re squishier. And you had a lot of blood on your head.” He grinned a little, but it subsided quickly. His head tilted to the side, and his hand had gone back to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Listen... normally I wouldn’t call you out like this because you’re a badass and I respect your rep, but there’s no one else around right now and I know how your head works. Are you _sure_ you’re alright?”

Beau felt herself going rigid. “I said I was fine,” she replied flatly.

Fjord’s gaze didn’t waver, and for a moment she saw a hint of her own fear reflected back at her. Eventually, he nodded. “Okay.” Beau couldn’t tell if he actually believed her.

Beau shook him off; gently, but the message was clear nonetheless. There was no time for talking, and nor was it the place for her insecurities to get the best of her. She had to stay focused. “The sooner we get our asses in gear and find them, the better,” she said, raising her chin. 

Fjord jerked a nod, that hint of fear disappearing. Whether it was genuine or just one of his many well-crafted masks, she couldn’t tell. Fjord was a good liar. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Good.” Grabbing up her dropped staff and affixing it to her back once more, Beau marched up to the jagged ice wall rising above their heads. “You still got your climbing gear?” 

The angle of the cliff was steep, but hard-packed, and that was good enough for Beau. Tying their two climbing ropes together and looping them around her waist, Beau took a step back, neck craned up to find the top.

“Heal yourself up a little while I’m gone,” she tossed over her shoulder. “You look like shit.” Then Beau pelted straight up the wall at a full sprint. 

It was hard not to feel the giant drop yawning behind her as she ran, but she had enough focus to ignore it. Besides, the Arbor Exemplar had been a much higher climb than this, and she’d managed that just fine. Her feet almost fumbled on the slick surface once or twice, but she managed to keep up her momentum all the way to the top. 

Beau vaulted over the ledge and landed in a crouch behind a small snowbank, going completely still and silent. Now that she was back in action mode, she was very aware of where she was, and Fjord was nearly a hundred feet below her. Her head barely poked above her shelter and her keen eyes swept the area.

From what she could see, they were maybe two layers down from where they’d been. It was a fair bit darker here, with the already dim light coming through the ice diffused by distance and turned to deep dusk. The dizzying contortion of the collapsed city streets loomed above her head, draping down the slope of the crater like a giant, hardened lava flow. Where she stood now looked to be the remains of a wide, empty boulevard that formed its own shelf, stretching away to her right and left for quite a ways. The collapsed buildings she could see running along it were large and didn’t seem residential, maybe a commerce district once. For the moment, things seemed clear.

Keeping low, Beau removed the rope noose from around her waist and began creeping toward the nearest chunk of rubble, her ears pricked as she looped the line and secured the knots. Once done, she crept back toward the edge of the cliff and began spooling the line down to where she could see Fjord waiting below.

He was a much slower climber than she was, and the few minutes it took him to make his way up seemed to stretch into ages. Beau’s leg bounced with impatience. _Come on, come ON, we have to find them!_ By the time Fjord was reaching the crest, Beau could no longer wait and leaned over to yank him up herself. “Grab on,” she hissed, holding out her hand.

A momentary clattering of rocks and the faint shifting of snow reached her ears, a little ways off behind her. It would have been easy to miss to someone who was less perceptive.

Beau froze, her grip tightening on Fjord’s arm. 

“What?!” Fjord yelped quietly. 

Beau said nothing. She heard more shuffling.

She waved frantically at Fjord for a moment with her free hand, put her finger to her lips, and then with a last strong heave, hauled him up over the edge. As he massaged his arms and tried to gasp quietly, Beau slithered into a covered position behind the rock where she’d tied the rope. Moving slowly and carefully, she peered around it. This time, the street was not empty.

“Shit! Fjord, get down!”

Coming up the dark street, wreathed in a faint, spectral green light that glowed on the snow was a small horde of undead. They were all mummified and crusted over in frost, limbs dangling loosely and haunting, thready groans creaking from dessicated chests. There were one or two that were practically only bone at this point, with only the barest rags clinging to them that suggested they were once clothed, but the majority of the pack were fresher, wearing tattered winter gear and most of them dragging weapons; these were no ancient dead of Aeor, Beau quickly realized, but rather past explorers that hadn’t made it back topside. 

_Which begs the question, what’s down here that’s still turning recent explorers into zombies?_ Beau would honestly prefer not to find out, at least not at the moment.

Fjord shifted up beside her. “Oh, fuck!”

“Ditto. Don’t move a muscle.”

Bunched together behind the rock, they watched, coiled tight as springs, as the loose patrol shambled its way closer. As they drew near, Beau could see that where shriveled eyes would have been, poison green sparks glowed from within the sockets instead, generating the light around them. She also noticed, with growing unease, that they weren’t just wandering around. Their heads were turning, snapping up and around and down to peer at the snow, very obviously searching _._ One of the fresher zombies stepped to the front and knelt down in front of some rubble. It looked like the shattered remains of a headstone that had fallen from the collapsing graveyard. Beau saw the undead brush away the snow from it, peer at it almost as if it was _reading_ the thing, and then turn its head to look upward.

Oh, that wasn’t good. The only thing that could be worse than a fast zombie was a smart zombie. 

_Don’t look over here, don’t look over here_ , Beau willed silently as the pack–no, patrol–drew closer and closer. She and Fjord were good, but not so good that just them against that many armed and apparently not stupid undead would be a cake walk. She flattened herself against the stone, just barely missing getting caught in the green glow of one of their gazes, and went by hearing alone. The faint rattling of bone, the creaking and chittering of jaws and teeth, and the crunching of footsteps slowly drew level with their hiding place. As they did, Beau just barely caught a reedy, singsong voice, multiplied as if coming from several withered throats at once, trembling through the air in a ghostly whisper.

_“Where… where… where? Warm blood, pliable bone, fresh flesh, need more, need more… Not finished yet. Not finished, and running out of time. Skies grow dark, sun is cruel, the earth is hungry. Where… where…?”_

The plaintive ponderings rose and fell like a hushed choral chant, and Beau pressed herself even harder against the rock. Gods, what she wouldn’t give for either of their clerics right now. Next to her, she could just barely hear Fjord mouthing a squeaky prayer. 

It felt like ages they stayed pinned motionless in their meager hiding place, waiting for the whispering patrol to pass them by. Green light flickered around the edges of the stone, causing Beau to tense even tighter, but she refused to budge until at last she heard the final tramp of feet move past. She waited a few minutes more, until the shuffling was barely audible in the distance, and there were no more whispers.

They both let out a simultaneous exhale of relief, slumping down. Licking her lips, Beau poked her head out from behind the rock again. Nothing. 

“Well…” Fjord panted, wiping a sheen of cold sweat from his forehead. His normally deep green skin tone had gone a sickly olive shade. “We weren’t going to avoid the creepy shit forever.”

“I guess not. Did you see that?”

“Iiiii saw a big pack of zombies, and then I was hiding behind a rock.”

“We need to be careful,” Beau whispered urgently. “They weren’t just wandering zombies. I think those fuckers were looking for us.”

“Like… us specifically, or…?”

“Hard to miss the shitstorm that went down up there,” she said, pointing upward roughly to where they’d fallen from, “and now they’re looking for whoever did it. They were… they were whispering something creepy, I don’t know what it meant.”

Fjord huffed, shivering a little as he hunched in on himself. “Oh, I heard that bit. It’s not normal. Well, as normal as undead get in the first place but–nevermind.”

“Well, we need to stay the hell away from them, wherever we’re going.”

“That’s also a question.” Fjord peered up where she’d been pointing. “Do we head up, or down?”

Beau bit her lip. Damn it. This was a choice she didn’t want to have to make. She didn’t think Caleb and Yasha could have avoided the fall, but Caleb might have been able to get them out of it depending on what magic he had today. She hadn’t seen Veth, Jester, or Cad, but in all the chaos she could have easily missed them. Still, they’d been further away from the ledge and could have dug their heels in somehow.

“...Up, I think,” Beau said after a long moment. “It’s closer, and it’ll be a quicker confirm and come back if no one’s up there, and probably way less dangerous. If we go down into whatever shit’s at the bottom of this crater, who knows how long it’ll take to get back out.” The logic was as sound as any she could pull from this coin flip of a decision, but it still made her feel like a rock was sitting in her stomach. She could only hope she wasn’t wrong. 

Fjord nodded slowly. “Okay then. Up it is.”

Beau breathed in deep, settling her mind as though in meditation, and let it out again. “Yeah. Keep an eye out.”

Leaving their hiding spot and creeping out onto the exposed road felt far more nerve-wracking than Beau would like. With every shift of snow, with every footstep or breath that sounded too loud, Beau felt herself despising the situation more and more. She hadn’t felt so vulnerable since… gods, since the Iron Shepherds. That feeling of emptiness around her and the exposed tingle at the back of her neck felt horribly familiar. She had to furiously shove that thought into the box at the back of her head. She did _not_ need to be dwelling on that. 

They moved slowly up the boulevard, sticking to the deepest shadows and behind cover as much as possible. It was slow going, but it was progress nonetheless. Eventually, they lost the cliff edge and entered a section of uninterrupted ghost town streets that slowly trailed upward. As they went, Beau took a closer look at all the crushed buildings around them. This place must have been a sight to see in its heyday; it looked like they’d landed in the remains of a city center. The opulent structures might have been temples, or academies, or maybe government buildings. 

“Hey!” Fjord elbowed her in the side, catching her attention. It wasn’t hard to spot the moving green glow ahead. They both ducked into a half-collapsed alley.

“Is that the same patrol?” Fjord whispered as he poked an eye out. Beau scooted beneath him to get a look. She swallowed hard.

“Uh, no. Different horde.”

As they pressed themselves back into the shadows, Beau did a rapid talley in her head. There’d been close to twenty-five undead in the first group, and there had to be just as many if not more in this one. How many were they dealing with?

They held their ground until this patrol–creaking, shuffling, whispering in the same wheezing voice multiplied across the crowd–passed them by. 

“You…” Fjord cleared his throat and turned to Beau, his eyes glowing just faintly in the dark. “You don’t think they’d recognize our footprints do you?”

“Uhhhh…” Uh oh. 

Once again, she snuck a single eye past the corner of the alley, peering back the way they’d come. The patrol that had passed them was still marching, and for a moment she thought they were in the clear. Then she saw them all halt, almost in sync with each other. The one at the head separated from the group and stepped to the side of the street, its bones creaking as it knelt down right where she and Fjord had been just a minute ago.

Beau whipped back around, shoving Fjord in the shoulder and pushing him down the alley. “Go, go go GO!”

“Here, step on the rubble!” Fjord hissed. As they crossed into the next street, darting a quick, fearful look back and forth before they did, Fjord jumped up onto one of the many chunks of masonry that lay scattered about. “Less of a trail.”

“Good thinking.” Beau scrambled up after him. Her eyes rose to the levels above them, back where they’d come from. It seemed so far off. 

The rubble worked for a minute, before Beau yet again heard the whisper of snow being disturbed, and the eerie rise and fall of ghostly voices. 

“Fuck!” Fjord snarled, picking up the pace. “They’re everywhere!”

“Just stay quiet,” Beau said, trying to keep level-headed, but as Fjord said it it seemed like her keen ears had gotten even stronger. It was all still eerily hushed, but as they followed the curve of the road, leaping from island to island of rocky debris, she was beginning to hear more and more shuffling in the alleys, inside the buildings, around every corner and in every crevice. The edges of her sight glinted green. 

Her breath started to come faster, puffing in and out as her mind sped up and her body surged with adrenaline. “Come on!” She grabbed Fjord by the collar of his armor and pulled him inside the partial shelter of a destroyed building, just catching another stumbling shadow turning onto the street ahead of them. 

Once they were inside and out of sight, Fjord fell back against the wall. “We aren’t going to make it through like this.”

“We have to!” Beau snapped, hands planting on her hips and beginning to pace. “You’ve got that god tingle that tells you when monsters are nearby, right?”

“Yes,” Fjord said. “But it only goes so far.”

“Well, just fucking make do, then! We _have_ to find the others!”

“Beau!” Her momentum was suddenly seized by large hands planting on her shoulders. She glared up at Fjord, but there was no returned hostility.

“I’m...I’m worried too,” he whispered, refusing to back off. “I want to find them as much as you do. But we aren’t going to be of any help to them if we rush ahead and get torn apart. They’re strong. We have to trust that they’ll hold out until we can find them.”

Beau’s teeth ground together. She wished she could believe him. _We’re only strong_ together, that cruel little voice whispered again. _We promised we’d be together in this, but we’re not. The last time that happened…_ The tattoo on the back of her neck, the one that had been so heavily inspired by the friend they’d lost, almost seemed to burn.

But she slowly nodded. What else could she do? “Okay,” she replied hollowly.

“...Okay.” Fjord released her. “We need to come up with a plan. Our luck’s going to run out if we just keep charging around. All my best magic’s spent; whatever we do, spells aren’t going to be much help.” 

Beau’s hands ran over her scalp, her head lowering and her foot tapping in thought. After a minute, she said, “What about the rooftops? There are probably still some of them up there, but maybe not as many.”

“Maybe, but it’ll be more exposed up there.”

“For them and for us.” Beau turned to him. “We’ll be able to see them coming a lot easier. And if you turn on that sense of yours, we’ll know if any get too close.”

Fjord’s hand rubbed across his mouth, but after a moment he nodded slowly. “I think that’s as good as we’re going to get.” He glanced up and to his left. The remains of a crumbling stairwell led upward at a slant, still just together enough to be climbed. “Let’s get to it then.”

The stairs were delicate work, every step on the verge of breaking and sending them falling back to the first floor, but in the end, they made it up two flights to the top. A rotted door leading to the roof hung off its hinges. 

Beau hovered behind Fjord as he peeped out of cover “All clear?” 

“...Yes. There are some below, but they’re moving off.”

They crept back into the open air. With a higher perspective, Beau could see the sprawl of the crisscrossing streets below her. She gulped. There were faint, green glows all over the place. 

“Do you see any more patrols up here?” Fjord asked, peering around himself.

Beau’s gaze lifted, scanning the rooftops as thoroughly as she could. She thought she saw some distant patches of green light, but not nearly as many as down at street level. “None close,” she said, a faint sense of triumph winking to life inside her chest. “And you don’t sense anything?”

“No. I think if we’re going to go, we do it now.”

Beau could see that the next rooftop wasn’t a far jump at all. With the densely packed construction of the city, and the collapsed shells of other buildings fallen from different sections, there was a clear pathway ahead and up. _We’re coming, guys. Just hang on._

Their feet rustled only faintly in the snow as they darted forward side by side. With the ease of long practice, Beau stepped up onto the lip and launched herself across, her flight a silent arc of several seconds, during which that bit of hope grew a little brighter. 

She should have known it wouldn’t last.

Beau’s landing was fine. With expert reflexes, she landed with the grace of a cat on the slanted roof, knowing just where to place her weight to absorb the impact and most of the noise, before ducking low and finding cover in the snow drift. Smooth and subtle, just as a monk should be. It was Fjord who landed badly, and not even through any fault of his own. After all, Beau thought a moment later, who could have known that particular patch of rooftop would be so rotted under all that snow?

The sound of Fjord’s foot breaking through shingle and wood rang out so loudly it might as well have been a cannon shot. His yell of shock and pain was just the bitter cherry on top of it all. 

As Beau lunged toward him, not even bothering with stealth any longer, and struggled to help pull him out, she already knew what was happening. Still, she’d always been the kind of person that had to know for sure, to see for herself the way the winds were blowing. So as Fjord scrabbled his way out of the hole, Beau looked down. 

An undead stood below them in the alley. Its head was tilted up, and the green spark of its eyes bored right into hers, the gleam of them flashing in her goggle lenses. The flesh of its lips had long since rotted away, leaving behind a pale and terrible grin.

_“There you are…”_

Its jaw snapped open. Emerging from its wrinkled throat, like an old, rusty hinge on a haunted house’s front gate, a long, creaking cry shivered into the air and seemed to fill the entire crater. The answering shrieks were not far behind.

The hunt had begun in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a lot longer than I'd hoped, but between finding it difficult to write and just...everything that's been going on in the world, the writing spirit was escaping me for a bit. Hopefully I can keep it up.


End file.
